Your Boldness Stands Alone Among the Wreck
by Olivia Crane
Summary: While Dean reels from his encounter with the First Blade, he and Sam travel to a small town to work a case while continuing their search for Abbadon. As more secrets unravel about the strange town and it's even stranger residents, the brothers' relationship remains riddled with tension. Just what will it take to prompt a Winchester reconciliation? Takes place in Season 9.
1. Welcome to Vesper

_Okay, so I'm planning on this being a "Spring Break Serial", that is, finishing it before the week is up as an interesting little vacation writing project. But I only want to continue if people are interested and enjoying it, so let me know if I need to go on!_

_Chapter 1:_

"Sounds like our kind of thing." Sam pushed the newspaper across the diner table to his brother, who was wrapped up in devouring a greasy plateful of eggs and sausage.

"Hmm?" Dean mumbled through a mouthful of food. He put down his fork and examined the paper. "Looks sort of odd, I guess."

"Forest Claims Another Victim, Locals Baffled." Sam repeated the headline. "But get this: I did some digging, and people have been vanishing into the woods around the town for over a hundred years, and nobody knows why."

"And people continue to go into the woods because…?" Dean rolled his eyes. He just didn't get people sometimes.

"It's a tourist town. People like the weird. Like Mystery Spot, remember?" Sam shuddered.

"Well, jeez." Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and took a last gulp of coffee. "Vesper, Arkansas, it is. That's only a few hours out from here. If we leave now, we'll make it by the afternoon."

"Uh, Dean…" Sam ventured, his sentence trailing off as his brother scowled at him.

"What, Sam?" Dean bristled, preemptively defensive.

"About that thing back there, with Magnus, um…"

"I'm not having this conversation." Dean said. "Get in the car. We've got things to do."

"Yeah, like find Abaddon." Sam said. "So we can kill her, remember?"

"So _I_ can kill her." Dean corrected, harshly. "Me. Only I can wield the blade. Ring any bells?"

"You don't have to be so defensive about it." Sam countered.

"I'm not defensive. Look, we don't know where to find the bitch. Or Crowley, who took the damn blade. So until we find either of them, I say we take a case."

"Okay." Sam held his hands up in surrender. "I'll not bring it up again."

Dean only huffed and went outside to start the Impala, leaving Sam with the tab.

Scene Break

Vesper, Arkansas was a quiet little town nestled between two forested mountains. It was flanked by a river on one side, and a lake on the other. At the center of town was a quaint main-street, featuring crumbling-yet-charming Victorian architecture, and a long row of gnarled, fiercely green and ancient magnolia trees. Stately marble buildings boasted bathhouses, and many glittering fountains dotted crooked sidewalks, with waves of steam rolling off of oddly warm water.

"This place is full of natural hot springs. Scalding water that just bubbles up from under the ground." Sam informed his brother as the Impala rolled down Main Street. "That's why people settled here. The native Americans thought that the water had magical properties, that it could heal diseases. White pioneers came later and took the land. Turned it into a tourist town."

"Well aren't you just the best little tour guide?" Dean snarked, glancing at the town, unimpressed.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Let's just do what we came here to do."

"Yup." Dean nodded, his expression grave. "Just get the job done."

They found a hotel, the only one in town. It was a sprawling, intimidating thing, 20 stories high and over 100 years old. They walked into the lobby, and even Dean had to pause to notice how nice it was.

"Not too shabby." He let out a low whistle, glancing around the monolithic, blushing marble entryway, accented with huge French windows and decorated with golden crown moldings.

"Looks like the inside of the Titanic." Sam said.

"The weird thing is," Dean thought aloud, "Where are all the people? Sidewalks had hardly any people. Everything is quiet. This whole place looks empty, and there's what, here? Five hundred rooms?"

"Definitely creepy." Sam agreed, wandering over to an unattended front desk. He rang the tiny old-fashioned bell, and no one came around.

He turned back to look at his brother, who was walking toward a similarly unmanned, gleaming mahogany bar area, complete with long rows of backlit liquor bottles and empty tumblers and wine glasses turned upside down.

"Hello?" Dean called, quickly losing his patience. Something was definitely up with this place. But what?

"Hello!" Someone called from across the huge room. The brothers looked over to see a young woman hurrying across the polished marble floor to the front desk. She was petite, hardly taller than Mrs. Tran, but she carried herself with strength like she wasn't a dainty twenty-something. Her pale legs stuck out underneath an exaggerated skirt of black tulle that billowed around her. Her too-high heels clicked against the floor.

"I didn't expect to have any guests today." She arrived at the counter, obviously flustered as she attempted to coax her brown hair back into place in her shimmering long bob. "Sorry, guys."

Large hazel eyes appraised the pair of brothers.

"Business or pleasure?" She asked.

"Business." Sam said.

"With who?" She asked, curiously. "If you don't mind my asking. There's not a ton of new enterprise around here. Small town and all that."

Dean frowned at her. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Oh, you don't want to say." She smiled contritely, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. "That's your prerogative. Not my business."

"No, it's not." Dean affirmed.

"One room, please." Sam said, cutting off his brother's rudeness. "Two beds."

The young woman shook her head. "No can do, unfortunately. This place pretty, sure, but they just found asbestos in the walls. Closed for renovation. That's why no one's here. Spring break is usually busy season, but this is the only hotel in town, so no one came."

"We'll try our luck the next town over. Thank you, miss, uh…" Sam looked for a nametag, but she wasn't wearing one.

"Waverly. Waverly Tate. But there isn't any need for you two to go off to Isleton. That town sucks. Majorly. Stay at my place. I've got several guest rooms."

"You would let strangers stay in your house?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, yeah. You guys are hunters, right? Hunters don't hurt people. Mostly." She winked at them.

"What's a hunter?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Oh, don't play dumb with me. You live long enough in Vesper, and eventually you learn to spot hunters. Flannel shirts, knives tucked in boots and they think no one notices. World-weary look and a bunch of odd scars? Weird shit happens here. All the time. And you two practically have "hunter" tattooed on your foreheads. So…the woods, huh? It's not advisable that you guys go in there."

"Why not?" Dean asked.  
"Well, obvious reasons, I think." Waverly rolled her eyes. "Something keeps nabbing people. Here, I can fill you guys in. Come over to the bar; let's do this over drinks. What's your poison?"

She hurried over the antique bar. Sam and Dean exchanged a look, then shrugged and decided to follow the somewhat odd woman. Who else did they have to interrogate? No one else was around, and she certainly seemed chatty enough.

Waverly poured whiskey into three tumblers, and placed them in front of the brothers as they took their seats at the bar.

"This is good booze," she said as she downed hers. "But this bar sucks. My friend Alan runs a place down here. It's above the old cigar shop, so it's pretty shabby, but it has a sort of character." She poured herself another, and Dean raised his eyebrows at her.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Oh, now who's in who's business?" Waverly smirked. "Twenty-six, if you must know."

"Okay, uh, _Waverly_," Dean didn't necessarily care for her strange name. "What's up with this place, and how do we stop it? People can't keep dying."

"You'd be surprised." Waverly muttered under her breath, her cheerful demeanor falling a bit. "Just when you think it has to stop, it keeps on. Until you almost get used to it. Most people here are just used to it. You boys pass a cemetery on the way here?"

"We passed four, actually." Sam said.

Waverly pointedly looked at him. "See? Four full cemeteries in a town of less than a thousand people. We have three independent funeral homes, for godssake. It's not a safe place. But we have people who try hard to make it that way. People not _you_. So the best thing ya'll could do is to get back in your car and leave this helltown in your rearview. Capiche?"

"Lady, we're the Winchesters." Dean said, as if it had some special significance she ought to know about. "We don't leave when people are dying."

"You can stem the worst of it." Waverly said. "But it's not a pit stop. It's not one job. It's an ongoing thing. All your life. So unless you're thinking of buying a house and living here forever, which I can't in good conscience advise, you'd be better off getting out of here before you get hurt."

"Look, we're not hotel clerks, no offense." Dean said, and the woman smirked at his careless comment. "We _save people_. And we're not leaving this town until we save everyone from whatever keeps killing them."

"Well, then," Waverly smiled mysteriously. "Welcome to Vesper. I imagine you'll be here awhile."

Scene Break

"You're really pumped for this job." Sam coolly observed from the passenger seat as Dean drove down a stretch of wooded highway. They were following the lady from the hotel to her house, after Dean decided to take a risk. She was all of a hundred pounds, anyway. What danger could a woman like that be?

Sam had questioned this decision, since she could be a demon or a veela or a witch or anything number of things, but Dean had remained obstinate.

"We're supposed to help people, Sam. And I can help them sleeping in the car, or on a real mattress. I choose mattress."

"Sure you're not choosing a pretty girl?" Sam pointed out, and Dean had frowned.

At one time, yes, Dean would have hit on the woman so quickly that her head would have spun, but there were bigger issues now. He had better things to worry about than a pretty woman in a pair of heels with great eyes and a cleverly low-cut shirt and….well, he wasn't _blind_, at least. He just figured that he'd become more mature. There were more pressing matters than a one-night stand to tend to.

Dean unconsciously tugged at his shirtsleeve, pulling further over the Mark of Cain, feeling a tingle of sensation where the fabric shifted over the red, raised skin. He remembered the surge of pure, unadulterated power he'd felt when he held the blade. He could vividly recall the out-of-body feeling as rage, elemental and untempered, overtook his entire being. He shuddered, and Sam made note of it, but pretend not to have seen.

"You okay?" He asked his brother, who was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

"Yeah, man, I'm good." Dean said, flipping on the radio. "Totally fine."

_Okay, that's just a taste of this story! I plan on making this sort of short, like, perhaps the duration of a single episode, or maybe two at most. What do you guys think? I don't want to continue on if there's no interest. Let me know, and I'll the next chapter out before the weekend is up. _


	2. Marks

Thanks to my reviewers! You guys are fantastic!

Chapter 2:

Sam woke up in the unfamiliar bed, uneasy and a bit overwhelmed by the smell of lavender on his pillows and duvets that he just hadn't been able to get used to. He assumed that Waverly meant the cloying smell to be soothing and homey, but Sam didn't trust it. It was too astringent, too…clean, he decided.

The house was a charming, two-story affair tucked into a bright clearing in a thicket of woods, with a big, welcoming porch and shutters slanted just so, as if the damage had been a stylistic choice.

The guest rooms were cozy and quaint, like the rest of the house. They were outfitted in antique furniture, and made soft by an abundance of decorative pillows and hand-tatted quilts and afghans hanging around on every surface. Waverly even had hand-written cards on the nightstands that told them where to find fresh towels, and clued them in to the Wifi password.

It was a woman's home, for sure, and perhaps that was what made Sam uneasy. He wasn't accustomed to the feminine frills. He hadn't lived with the smell of potpourri since Jess.

Abandoning any notion of sleep, he slung his long legs over the side of the bed, and padded in his bare feet across the hall. He carefully opened the door to the guest room where Dean was, only to find his brother passed out atop the coverlet, his shoes untied but still on.

He lightly snored with his mouth ajar, and he had a silver knife clutched in one hand, the sinews of his forearm clenched even in sleep. The Mark of Cain was visible in the dimness, peeking out beneath Dean's rolled shirtsleeve, red and angry and ominous.

Sam sighed and pulled the door to. At least Dean was resting. He needed it.

Suddenly, Sam heard a muted crash and an explicative from the direction of Waverly's room. On instinct, he tore across the hall and slung the woman's door open, surprised to see Waverly halfway in her room. One foot had been caught in the window, and she'd fallen.

She wasn't wearing pajamas; she had on jeans and a worn leather jacket, and some leaves were caught in her rumpled hair. A bruise was forming on one side of her face. She gasped when Sam entered, and proceeded to hastily remove her booted foot from under the window jam. She succeeded in further entangling herself in her lace curtain.

"Damn it!" She said, finally freeing herself. "Pay no attention to that lady in the curtain." She said, lamely.

"You were sneaking in? To your own house?" Sam asked, skeptically.

"Didn't want to wake my houseguests." She said. "Who barges into people's rooms, anyway? I could have been naked."

"I thought you were in trouble."

"I can take care of myself." Waverly crossed her arms. "I don't need some guy bursting in to save the day."

"What were you doing?" Sam asked. "The woods are dangerous after dark, aren't they? You said it yourself."

Waverly wrinkled her nose and began picking foliage out of her hair. "Not your business, hunter guy."

"Are you a hunter?"

"No. Go back to bed, Dean."

"Sam."

"Oh, sorry. I'm just terrible with names and faces. Dean's your brother, I take it? Please tell me I'm at least in the ballpark. There was a girl in my freshman English class, whose name was Tatiana. And I'll be damned if I didn't call her Stacy the entire semester. Tea? Can I get you some tea?"

"Why not? I can't sleep anyway." Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure what irritated him more: his insomnia, or this girl's ramblings.

"Come on, it may be two am, but my kitchen's always open. Chamomile could help you sleep. If you don't mind, though, I only drink English tea, black and thick as tar. The kind of crap that stains your teeth, but makes everything right in the world when you're drinking it? Ya know?"

"No." Sam said, as they descended the staircase. "This is a pretty big house for just you." He observed.

"I inherited it from my aunt." Waverly's face became grave. "She's one of the ones I was telling you two about. One of the people who help fill up all those cemeteries."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Sam said, automatically.

"Thanks." Waverly said. "I'm okay, really. It was a long time ago."

The kitchen was every bit as tastefully eclectic as the rest of the house, and Waverly served him tea from oversized, mismatched mugs.

They sat together at a table that must have been second-hand, as it was very old, with someone's initials carved into it's wooden top long ago.

"DT?"

"Desmond Tate." Waverly explained. "My great-grandfather. It's an old table."

"Your family has been here a long time, then?"

Waverly nodded. "As far back as records show. They're entwined in the valley's history pretty thick. My father, he's the mayor here. We don't really get along, but…" Waverly shrugged. "Such is life. Anyway, I know why you came down here with me. You want to ask me questions. Hunters always do." She put a strand of hair behind her ear, and Sam had to look twice.

Hadn't her face been bruised a minute before? There wasn't a mark on her, not anymore. Had it just been a trick of the light? He sighed. Since when was he ever that lucky? She'd healed somehow.

"What are you?" He asked, tensing his muscles, ready to fight if need be.

"Calm your hackles, there, Mr. Hero." Waverly said, tiredly, her slim fingers twined around her steaming teacup. "What clued you in? How'd I screw up this time?"

"You were bruised, and now it's like it vanished. What are you?" he demanded again. "If you're trying to kill me or my brother, then…"

"Dean," Waverly sighed, her shoulders slumped.

"I'm Sam." Sam replied, vaguely annoyed.

"Sam, then. I…it's hard to say. I'm a well...superhero, of sorts. Ish."

"Excuse me?"

Oh, now he'd heard it all. Loki is a janitor and also Gabriel the archangel and Lucifer had to be shoved into a box like a Fed Ex package and fairies were real and somehow the Ghostfacers made enough money to stay in business and angels weren't really all that nice and your whole life is detailed in shitty paperback novels and you're stuck in a timeloop, or a television universe, or an alternate reality where you and your brother are actors. These were all crazy things that Sam could accept. But _come on_. Superhero? _Really?_

"_Too many things are things_." he muttered. "This is...well, this is just _crazy_."

"That's the general reaction. Look, it's not a big deal. I'm a good guy, 'kay? That's what I was just out doing. Helping people. So you can just put the whole judgy hunter thing aside for a bit and…oh, come on. Sit down."

Sam had gotten up from the table, and had started for the stairs.

"I knew there was something weird about this. Where'd you get your powers? Who'd you make a deal with?"

"I didn't make a demon deal." Waverly said, offended. "I was chosen."

"Chosen?" Sam said, skeptically.

"By the pool."

"Pool? Like a swimming pool?"

"A pool of water. It's magic. Sam, dammit, don't go for a weapon. Don't wake up your brother. Sam!" she hissed. "Can't we talk about this like civilized people?"

"Talk about superpowers and a magic pool of water? You're either possessed or crazy or both. Or a witch."

"I'm the Protector." Waverly insisted. "If you'll only listen for _five seconds_, I can…_please_." Sam paused, staring at the woman. She seemed…innocent enough, if not a bit jaded.

She rolled up the sleeve of her jacket on her left arm, revealing a tattoo near her wrist that glimmered with an unnatural iridescence. It reminded Sam of the tree of life from Celtic or Norse mythology, with it's gnarled branches.

"You're…marked." Sam said, finally.

Waverly nodded. "I'm this way to save people. Look, I know it's weird, but try to understand."

"You've had this for a while?" Sam asked.

Waverly nodded. "I was sixteen when I changed."

"But you're still…you're still _you_?" Sam wanted to clarify. If this woman could live without some mystical mark changing her, then who's to say that Dean couldn't? Waverly seemed eccentric, sure, but was normal by most counts. Right?

"Yeah. Sadder and wiser, now, but totally myself. This," she gestured to the harsh design emblazoned on her wrist, "It's not who I am."

"I think you could, um…" Sam ran his hand through his hair again as he searched for words. "I think that you should talk to my brother."

_Okay, so there's the next installment. Planning the next scene to go up tomorrow. And I promise that I'm not writing a Mary Sue. I can see where Waverly might appear to be so in these early stages, but her flaws run deep, I assure you. Her powers only exist as a plot device to juxtapose the Mark of Cain scenario, not to create a Mary Sue. Promise. Things to look forward to in the future: Brotherly conundrums, Reaper lore, more bizarre townspeople, and a surprise special guest that hasn't appeared on the show in quite some time. What's up with this freaky town? Who or what is taking people in the forest? Will Sam and Dean fix their relationship? Tune in tomorrow to find out! (Also, kindly drop me a line. Reviews are my bread and butter.)_


	3. Muffin?

_Alright, reviewers! I don't think I've ever seen such interest in a story so early on! You guys are just ridiculously marvelous._

Chapter 3:

Waverly was placing the finishing touches on the breakfast table as the two brothers came downstairs.

"I made you two some muffins for the road. Lemon poppyseed and blueberry streusel. Coffee? Can I get you two some coffee?"

"The road?" Dean asked.

"Oh, you're both leaving." Waverly said, nonchalantly. "Sam and I had a rather uncomfortable conversation in the wee hours and I think that it's better for all involved if you two hit the road."

She pushed a manila file folder across the table toward them. "Found you a case and everything. In Missouri. Scenic Missouri. Yay for the Show Me State, amirite?"

"When did you find all this time to bake?" Sam asked, groggily.

"I couldn't sleep after I told a guy who's practically a stranger my secret identity. Go figure. So I channeled those nerves into baked goods. Let me lay it down for you. You two are gonna eat a hearty breakfast while I chat with Dean about our marks, and then you're both gonna skedaddle on out of here. And never breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Wait, secret identity? Marks? As in plural, marks?" Dean asked. "What the hell happened when I was asleep?"

"I was gonna explain at breakfast." Sam offered. "We're won't tell anyone, Waverly. Other hunters would come after you."

"And scientists, besides." She crossed her arms, frowning. "Thanks. And if you tell a soul, I can crush your heads. Like grapes. With just my hands."

"You wouldn't." Dean appraised her, coolly. "If you were going to kill us, you'd have done it already."

Sam nodded in agreement, and Waverly stomped her small foot.

"Damn it! Nobody takes me seriously."

"Well, the frilly apron doesn't help your scare factor." Sam nudged her. "Show Dean your arm."

"Oh, show him my arm. Here, just roll up your sleeve and tell your secrets to the strange man with broody green eyes." Waverly fussed at Sam as she rolled up her sleeve.

"Um…thank you?" Dean grabbed a muffin off the table and bit in. "Is someone going to tell me what in hell is going on here? Is that somehow significant or is it just something you picked up on a regretful spring break trip?"

"I'm the Protector." Waverly said. "Which means nothing to you guys, apparently, judging from your vacant looks." She sighed. "Here's the short version. I get tired of telling it, so pay attention. Vesper was built on a ley line."

"Oh. A ley line. Metaphysical convergent points."

"Of pure magical energy, yeah. Combines with the natural elements around, and weird things happen. Like the hot springs in the city. It's all from the ley lines. Unfortunately, the center of power here could be very dangerous in the wrong hands. In 1812, the New Madrid quake happened because a native sorcerer wanted to destroy the physical world. Google it.

"Well, the sorcerer part won't show up, but by all accounts, this quake was large enough to ring church bells in New York. Not many people were hurt, because not many people lived here at the time. But if something like that were to happen now, millions would die."

"So where do you come in?" Dean started scarfing down a muffin.

"You're oddly calm about this." Sam observed.

Dean shrugged. "A few days ago, we were in an invisible house with the King of Hell and a deranged wizard version of P.T. Barnum. How are you not used to this stuff yet?"

"Oh my God, you know Crowley?" Waverly paused to pour three cups of coffee. "Definitely putting a pin in _that_ to return to later. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, to stop the sorcerer, a warrior from the village went to a spring, deep in the forest. He offered himself to the pagan gods in sacrifice to end the sorcerer's plan. He drowned himself, but he didn't die. When he came out of the pool, he was transformed. He had been given the physical powers he needed to defeat the sorcerer and save the world.

"And it went from there. After he died, the mantle of power was passed to someone else in town that the pool deemed worthy. And so it happened to me. Oh, yeah, the ley line's energy is alive, sort of. Like, omnipresent and cognitive. It chooses to do as it wishes to whoever it wishes. I was sixteen, out for a hike with my school's nature club. I wandered off the path, away from the group. To this day, I can't tell you why. Something was calling me, just an irresistible lure that I couldn't resist. And that same something made me step into the pool, and I became…well, this." She showed him the tree emblazoned on her slim wrist.

"Superpowered?" Dean asked, skeptically.

"Yes." Waverly said. "I get that it's hard to believe, I do. I didn't believe it at first for a while. I thought I was going crazy. My whole world had been a lie. Normal people live in Vesper, too. They do. And I'd been one of them. But there's a second group here that's called Undertown. It's made up of people who know the truth about this place. And creatures who are drawn to the mystical energy here. We've got it all: poltergeists, vampires, werewolves, witches, all living here in harmony. Sort of. And nasty things end up here, too. Things like wendigos and hobs and demons.

"Things go wrong sometimes, and that's where I step in. I make sure that people don't get hurt, and that no one discovers the center of the ley line's energy. Because if they did, they could trigger an apopcalypse."

Dean put his face in his hands and groaned. "Did you hear that, Sam? Another friggin' apocalypse."

"Well, I'm not exactly tickled pink about it." Waverly put a hand on her hip.

"And you're not doing a great job of keeping people alive, either." Dean pointed out.

"Excuse me, but I'm spread a little thin these days." Waverly lowered her voice. "What do you guys know about angels?"

"You'd be surprised." Dean said.

"So, you know they're real? Good. Most hunters I've met don't know much about it. All the angels have fallen out of Heaven. I don't know all the details, but I know it's bad. Souls can't even get into Heaven. Most of the angels were drawn to the energy here and took a lot of my people as vessels. Most of them are really religious, you see, ironic as that is. But then The King of Hell went missing for a while, and demonic factions are forming, trying to take the throne. There's the old king, a dude named Crowley. And some lady named like, Aladdin or something? I don't know; it's exotic-sounding. And then there's a demon named Mephistopheles."

Sam blinked in surprise. Something they didn't know? How often did that happen?

"Mephistopheles set up shop here, in my town. He wants to harness the ley line's energy to set off an earthquake that will kill everyone for thousands of miles in any direction. With the gates of Heaven closed and all the souls trapped in the veil, he can harvest those souls himself and be as powerful as God. So sorry that I've lost a vessel or two, Mr. Hunter. I'm doing all I can here to keep this continent from imploding and a megalomaniac from becoming all-powerful."

"I'm not drunk enough to deal with this." Dean muttered, then snapped into action. "Okay, so what do we have to do to beat this dude?"

"I don't know how to kill demons." Waverly admitted. "I can exorcise them, normally. With just a wave of my hand, but this one I can't."

"He's too strong for that." Sam said, quietly, remembering the days when he could do something similar.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out. Anyway, this is no place for you guys. No offense, but you're just hunters. You'd only be killed."

Dean scoffed. "Just hunters. _Just _hunters. We're the Winchesters."

"You keep saying that, like I'm supposed to get it, but I really don't get it." Waverly put her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "So lay it on me. What's a Winchester? Winchester like the gun?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a significant look.

"We'll explain it all later." Sam said. "Right now, I want you to talk to my brother about your mark. Help us to maybe understand his better."

"Oh, now I'm your _brother_ again, am I?" Dean huffed, annoyed.

"Dean." Sam raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Don't start."

"Well, you could cut the tension in here with a katana." Waverly chuckled awkwardly. "You guys having some issues? Because I took a whole semester of Intro to Psychology. Ha. Little community college humor there. Heh. Did I mention that I cover up awkwardness with sarcasm and lame jokes? It's not a super-power, incidentally. I'm just naturally talented at going on and on, even when two people are glaring at each other and then they're glaring at me, and it's really...weird..."

The door bell rang, interrupting the exchange.

"Oh, thank God. There's somebody at the door! I'm gonna go answer that and give you two some time to absorb, before you hit the road. Maybe hug out your issues. Be right back."

Waverly hastily made her exit, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"How do we find these people?"

"I really don't know." Sam conceded. "But I think she could be an ally, don't you? Especially now that there's three in the race for leader of Hell."

"But can we be sure that she can…I mean, she just seems a little…"

"Guys, I can hear you!" Waverly called from the next room. "I have super-hearing."

"Super-hearing." Dean threw up his hands. "_Fucking super-hearing_."

"Heard that too!" Waverly hollered and laughed good-naturedly. She entered the room shortly, this time with a very pregnant blonde woman in tow.

The boys' jaws nearly dropped.

"Guys, this is my secretary and friend…"

"Becky." Sam finished Waverly's sentence for her.

"You know her?" Waverly marveled. "Small world."

"Oh, we may have run into her a few times." Dean snarked, as Becky's face lit up in excitement.

"Oh. My. _Winchester!"_ she squealed, flailing her hands.

"Son of a bitch." Dean cursed.

"Do you think she saw us?" Sam asked, desperately. "Can we still sneak out the back?"

"How do you guys know Becky?" Waverly asked. "Because this room just got 200 percent more awkward. Thirty seconds ago, I wasn't certain that that was possible."

"This is Sam's ex-wife." Dean said. "And by ex-wife, I mean the crazy lady who drugged him with a love potion and held him against his will."

"Seriously? You picked the tall one?" Waverly wrinkled her nose.

"Could we stay focused on the issue at hand here?" Sam snapped, as Becky threw his arms around him. Or tried, anyway, as her pregnant belly didn't allow her to get very close.

"Oh, calm down, Sam. I'm happily married." Becky's eyes danced as she showed off a sizable diamond. "His name is Clive. He's a pharmacist."

"Awesome." Dean said. "Happy endings all around. Well, looks like me and Sam ought to hit the road, like you said. Missouri, right? God bless Missouri." He grabbed the manila folder off the table and rifled through it. "Nothing like a good ol'fashioned haunting. Let's go, Sam."

"Dean, wait." Waverly said. "I know I told you both to go earlier. But maybe what Sam said makes sense. I'm usually too proud to ask for it, but I could honestly use some help here. I'm kinda in over my head. It's not a normal hunt, but you both seem capable. Do you think you'd be up to helping me stop the skeevy bastard who wants to destroy the world?"

"_Would_ they be up to it?" Becky scoffed. "Do you know who they _are_, Waves? They're the _Winchesters_."

"Okay, everyone keep saying that, but no one will tell me what it's supposed to mean!" Waverly exclaimed, exasperated.

"Muffin?" Dean asked, handing her the tray of baked goods, a bored sort of smirk on his face.

If Sam didn't know better, he might say that his brother was amused.

_Okay, so there's the next installment! So fortunate to have such great readers! I kinda have a general idea of where I'm taking this, but suggestions are always welcome. What, or who, would you be interested in seeing?_

_More fun stuff on the way, like reaper lore (as previously promised), an exploration of the veil, and meeting more citizens of Vesper, whom I think you'll all find really interesting. _

_As always, please review! _


	4. Undertown

Chapter 4:

"Okay, so first things first." Waverly told them, leading them up a ramshackle-looking wrought-iron stairwell. The building they were attached to was made of crumbling yellow brick, and looked almost abandoned.

"This bar is where most of Undertown likes to hang out. You can meet everyone that's on the team."

"Team?" Dean asked.

"Well, yeah. They're a little eccentric, and can be highstrung, but they're invaluable to the cause. I'd honestly have died a long time ago without them. The lifespan of a Protector isn't generally a long one. But you guys are hunters; you get that. We all die bloody, don't we?"

"Well, there's that chipper enthusiasm we've come to know." Dean dryly observed.

"I'm fairly upbeat, Dean. But I'm a realist, too."

She opened a battered green door at the top of the stairs, weathered paint chips raining off it as she did so.

"Oh, and one more thing: No killing. I understand that you guys kill monsters, but most of Undertown are fairly well assimilated into human life. So check your prejudices at the door, gentlemen. There's a no killing rule here."

"If something needs ganked, we gank it." Dean said.

"If they need it, then I'll see to it that they're put down. It's my place, and I've done it before."

The bartender looked up as they entered, scowling as he rubbed a grubby rag on a water-spotted beer glass. A few other bar patrons hung around worn tables, many of them nursing drinks despite the fact that it was hardly noon.

"Hey, Waves. Are these the guys Becky was telling me about?"

"God, that girl has a mouth." Waverly said. "Who doesn't know about my hunters?"

"_Your_ hunters?" Sam asked, dubiously.

"Oh, you know what I mean." Waverly brushed him off. "Winchesters, this is Alan Kane. Alan Kane, this is Sam and Dean. They're here to help us with our little apocalypse problem."

"That so?" Alan didn't offer his hand to shake; he continued to polish his glass and appraise the pair of brothers. "So Waves has told you everything?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay, good." Alan said. "Things aren't looking fantastic out there."

"Looks like everyone I want you to meet is here. Bet we can blame Becky for that. Anyway," Waverly pointed to a pale man at a table near to them, drinking a cup of what looked like tea, and reading a novel. He had on a herringbone jacket complete with suede elbow patches, and a pair of thin wire glasses was perched on his pointed, slender nose.

"This is Heinrich. He's our research guy. Vampire with a blood allergy, which isn't as uncommon as you'd think. Or so Heinrich would have us believe. Cough cough. He's a whiz at lore, and adorably German."

"Allergic to blood?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Now I've heard everything."

"And that lush in the miniskirt slumped over the chair in the back corner? That's Margo. She died in the 80s, spent some time trapped in the bar as a poltergeist with dated slang and leg warmers, before she was brought back to life by accident by…"

Waverly pointed at a mousy-haired, tall woman who was seated by the window, watching them curiously.

"Elspeth, our resident witch. She's not as talented as she is old, but her info comes in handy. Oh, don't glare at me, Elspeth. You were born in colonial Massachusetts. I don't care that you're eternally young; in my book, you're old."

Elspeth raised her right hand, flipping Waverly off.

"Well, way to make a good impression for our hunters." Waverly tsked.

"Hunters?" Heinrich stood up from his table, alarmed. His lip trembled as clipped, Germanic-accented English stumbled from his mouth. "You brought hunters here?"

"_Ya_, Heinrich. But they won't hurt you. Because they're on our side. I hope. But they seem nice enough and…"

"Aren't you going to do my introduction?" The barkeep interrupted.

"Oh, yeah. Alan is my functioning alcoholic, sidekick psychic. He's a bartender among his many talents, which include being a plane walker. He's usually immune to most spells, as well, which always comes in handy when they rest of get whammied with this town's weirdness."

"Last week, we were all trapped in a musical." Elspeth elaborated. "Because the ley line's energy latched on the imagination of our local radio show host."

"And about a month ago, some teenagers were playing Dungeons and Dragons, and their game manifested by throwing us all into the Dark Ages. Complete with new personas." Heinrich chimed in.

"Holy Hell, this place is weird." Dean commented. "Whiskey, double." He told the bartender.

"Yeah, it sucks. But with power that volatile, we have to defend it." Waverly explained. "No matter how many times it crosses the wires of reality. Make that two of those, Alan, please. Anything for you, Sam?"

Sam shook his head.

The door burst open, and Becky clomped in, heaving with the effort. "Do you people realize how hard it is to walk up those stairs eight and half months pregnant?" she huffed. Her arms were full of papers and manuscripts, which she dumped onto Heinrich's table.

"Well, that's all I could find in the archives concerning Mephistopheles." She said. "Or the Mark of Cain."

"Awesome, Becky, thank you. You and Heinrich look those over, why don't you, and if you need help, pour some ice water on Margo. Elspeth, I need you to go back to the archives and find me anything you can on Knights of Hell and angel turf warfare. Alan, can you take a peek at the other side and see what's happening in the veil? Thanks, guys."

"Bossy." Dean observed.

"You know, there's an Internet campaign to try and get people to stop calling women 'bossy'." Waverly pointed out, throwing back her drink. "It's sexist now."

Dean just rolled his eyes, and threw back his drink.

"Waverly Tate!" Becky scolded. "Put that booze away right this minute! You have to meet your family for a ladies' manicure luncheon at 1:30, or have you forgotten? And at six, it's your sister's rehearsal dinner. My word, what would you do without me keeping track of your schedule?"

Waverly groaned and put her head on the bar top. "No! I forgot all about her stupid wedding. I didn't even bring anything to wear. I can't go in jeans. They already think I'm a screw up."

"I have your clothes in my car. There's your business casual for lunch, and your medieval outfit for the Game of Thrones themed rehearsal dinner. And Everly sent you an email requesting that you, and I quote, "Don't show up without a date, because she's tired of explaining to her friends that her sister is a single loser."" Becky cringed. "Sorry, Waves."

"Ugh! I'm too busy to deal with this nonsense!" Waverly pounded her shot glass against the bar top. "Alan, more booze. I'm not nearly drunk enough to have lunch with Mom and Everly. Plus all her snooty little sorority friends, and the bitches from Mom's country club. I have stuff to do, dammit!"

The lights began to flicker as Waverly got more angry.

"Waverly, calm down. You're messing with the electricity again." Alan said.

Dean caught Sam's eye, as if to say, "What in hell have we gotten ourselves into?"

"So, I take it your family doesn't know that you're…The Protector?" Sam asked, gently.

"No. And even if they did, precious little Everly's wedding would be more important than fending off impending doom."

"Waverly? Everly?" Alan chortled. "I still think that your parents were high when they named you guys."

"Thank you, Alan. Your comments are very beneficial." Waverly snapped. "Can you guys hold down the fort while I go contend with my family? If anything hinky happens, call me. I'll fly right on over. Sorry to bail for a bit, Winchesters, but you can work with Alan. He'll fill you in on everything, okay?"

Sam and Dean nodded.

"Well, aren't you forgetting something?" Becky asked again, sounding exasperated.

"What?" Waverly asked.

"A date for tonight. For the rehearsal dinner." Becky spoke slowly, as if she were speaking to a toddler.

"I'm going stag, Becky. Fuck my sister and her dumb friends, too."

"There are four single guys in this room who could go with you. And help you if things go down." Becky said. "You know very well how badly any gathering of people can go here. You might need backup."

Waverly paused, considering.

"Well, we need Heinrich for research. And he's not one for muscle. Sorry, Heinrich."

"No offense taken." Heinrich said, most of his attention devoted to the papers in front of him.

"I'm not going." Alan said. "Just gonna put that out there before you ask."

"Alan, quit being a dick." Waverly whined. "Please?"

"Nope. Your family sucks and being your fake date sucks, too. Remember your high school reunion when someone put truth serum in the punch and I had to contend with that? Not it. Take one of your hunters with you."

"See how honest we are in our group?" Waverly joked to Sam and Dean. "Nobody is afraid to speak their minds."

"I don't want to go to a rehearsal dinner." Dean said.

"There are bigger problems to deal with." Sam pointed out.

"I agree, Becky." Waverly said. "No one should have to endure this that doesn't have to. I can make an appearance, then come back here and get back to work. Angels and demons? Power struggles? People dying? Ring any bells?"

"We could draw names out of a hat." Elspeth suggested. "Waverly, sorry, you're overruled. You really should go with some backup. There's a target the size of Texas on your forehead."

"When isn't there?" Waverly protested. "I'll be fine."

But Becky and Elspeth had already written names on pieces of torn up napkin and shoved them into a cup to draw a name.

"Don't any of us get a say in this?" Sam asked.

"Nope." Waverly sighed. "I've learned it's easier to just go along with it when they get something in their heads."

"Heinrich, will you do the honors?" Becky asked the vampire, who pulled out a small slip of paper.

"The short one?" Heinrich hesitantly proclaimed.

"That means you, Dean." Becky trilled. "That means that Sam gets to stay here and help us."

"That's a convenient surprise." Dean snarled. "I'm sure you and your little witch friend would just love getting Sam alone and making him your bitch again, wouldn't you?"

"They know better. Don't you guys?" Waverly asked them, pointedly. "Because we have a strict '_no hexing each other_' agreement. God, my life is weird." She massaged her temples.

"I wasn't her bitch." Sam protested, weakly.

Alan patted Sam's shoulder, sympathetically. "Love spell, huh? Don't feel bad, dude. We've all been there."

"And I really am sorry." Becky said, looking contrite. "Anyway, I'm in love with Clive. I don't need love spells anymore. Sam's cool with it, anyway, right, Sam?"

Sam shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Uh…"

"Hey, Waverly, remember that time that you got love spelled? By those paranormal investigators?" Alan laughed, reminiscing.

"Shut your whore mouth." Waverly told Alan. "Your ex-wife was a Druid. She didn't even shave her armpits. I could have started a wig factory with all her body hair!"

"What did those guys call themselves?" Alan ignored Waverly's protests, loving this opportunity to tease his friend. "The Ghost Busters? No. The Ghoul Snatchers?"

"Ghostfacers." Chimed in the groggy woman from the corner of the room, who had been passed out just a moment before. "Why are we talking about the time Waves sexed a Ghostfacer?...What time is it? Did I pass out last night?"

"Ugh!" Waverly's face turned red. "It was the spell, you jerks! God. This is why I don't bring people around very often. You guys are so embarrassing sometimes."

"I'm secure in your love for us." Elspeth laughed.

Waverly threw up her hands in surrender.

"I'm gonna go get ready for the luncheon. Be back in a minute. Dean, you can go tonight if you want to. Seriously, I don't need backup. But you're welcome to come if you want. We have to wear medieval clothes, because my sister is a demanding harpy, but I'm sure Becky can scare something up for you."

"Oh, I picked up a guy's outfit when I got yours from the rental place." Becky said. "Since the invite requested you bring a date."

"Excellent, Becky." Waverly said, sarcastically. "See what a great secretary she is?"

"I'll take that as a compliment." Becky proudly folded her hands and rested them satisfactorily over her swollen belly.

"Take it however you like." Waverly teased back. "See you fellas soon. Guys, be nice. Do not scare off my hunters. We need allies. So behave yourselves." She wagged a maternal finger at them.

"Scouts honor." Alan held up his hand in a mocking gesture.

"We'll be good." Elspeth vowed.

"I can't promise anything." Margo sat up from the back, wiping a spot of dried vomit from the corner of her mouth. "I mean, look at their muscles. Come to mama." She passed back out again, her rumpled, "Save Ferris" tee riding up and exposing her pierced midriff.

"Oh, Margo. Don't ever change." Waverly sighed. "This, Winchesters, is the crack team that has saved the world. Like three times. If you can believe it. I'll be back in a few hours. Will you make it without me?"

"We'll try." Sam said, wiping down a barstool with a napkin before sitting down.

Dean grumbled something to himself, but offered their new ally a thumbs up sign. They'd worked with worse, right? "Is there someplace I could step out for some privacy? I need to make a call."

_Okay, so I promise that's sort of the last bit of background info before I dive into the meat of this story. Just a few days left of Spring Break, which means just a few chapters left of this story. A big thank you to everyone who has shown an interest; you people are just fantastic! Leave me some feedback so I can write a better story for you!_


	5. Planewalkers and Poltergeists

Chapter 5:

_Later that Evening, 7:58 p.m._

"So, what's a planewalker?" Sam asked Alan. Most of their heads were buried in books and manuscripts, trying to find tidbits of information of the things they were facing.

Empty pizza boxes were still scattered around from an improvised dinner. Becky had one stashed away in the back room, for when Dean and Waverly returned. Elspeth had argued that they'd be full from the rehearsal dinner, but Becky had insisted on the grounds that it was "only polite".

"You haven't met a planewalker yet?" Alan asked in surprise. "It's just as well; we're not all that common."

Margo groaned. "God. Can't believe I gotta hear this story again."

Alan calmly folded his hands on the bartop, surveying Margo with a tired expression.

"For years, you haunted my bar. And I had to hear you bitch about not being able to leave. Now you have a body again, and yet you're still haunting my bar."

"Old habits." Margo shrugged, then nudged Sam. "But I could pick up some new ones, if the right dude came along. Ya get my drift?"

"He'll get your clap." Alan interjected, and Margo stuck her tongue out at him.

"He's only jealous." She explained to Sam. "We dated back when I was incorporeal. He didn't offer me the support I needed. Just wasn't man enough. I bet you're all man." She winked at Sam, who gestured to his book.

"Let's just focus on research, hmm?"

Margo frowned, but relented.

"I ended things because you tried to cut out my tongue, and you poltergeisted a toaster into the sink while I was doing dishes." Alan told Margo, obstinately.

"Can't a girl go vengeful every now and again without it being a big deal? It's whatevs, Chaco." Margo grabbed a cocktail olive from behind the bar area and popped it into her mouth.

"Margo doesn't understand modern slang." Elspeth explained. "She's still preoccupied with 1985. Like the song."

"I believe Sam had a question." Becky interjected, her patience wearing thin. "About planewalkers. Go on, Alan."

Alan continued.

"A planewalker is a human, with a certain set of psychic powers. We can do all the usual psychic crap, like see invisible beings and get vibes or whatever, but we can also enter other dimensions, or versions of reality."

"Like the veil." Sam said, nodding.

"The veil, yes. Or Purgatory, which I make a point to avoid. Or Otherton."

"Otherton?" Sam asked. "I thought we were already in Otherton."

"_Nein._" Heinrich cut in. "This bar is part of the_ Undertown_ scene. Otherton is a separate sphere of this town's existence, where our dead congregate."

"Like a flipside." Alan elaborated. "The ley line tethers folks here, even after death. It's not a bad gig over there. Just a little creepy. It's an extension of the veil. A pocket, if you will."

"Is there anything else here I should know about? Are there tree hollows full of spacemen or portals to Narnia?" Sam asked. "Because new things keep popping up. You could write an encyclopedia about this place and still have questions."

"Believe me, I am trying to write one." Heinrich lamented. "But the lore keeps changing."

"That's about all of the exposition, anyway. I think you're up to speed, now." Becky assured him.

"Anyway," Alan picked up his story again. He never appreciated an interruption. "Planewalkers don't have ideal lives when they're alive. The dead always bother them with their problems or whatever. Rarely a moment's peace. But after death, that's when the real fun starts."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"I'm getting to it. When a planewalker kicks it, their soul doesn't get to go to Heaven or Hell. We become Reapers, whether we like it or not."

"Wait. Reapers used to be people?"

"Yeah. What did you think they were?"

"I always figured that they just…existed. Like angels."

"Reapers are certainly not like angels. Angels are the worst. Ain't that the worst stroke of irony in the universe?" Alan poured himself a tipple of rum and drank it in one big gulp.

"Not all angels are bad." Sam said.

"You're talking about Castiel, aren't you?" Becky delicately clapped her hands. "Where is the remaining third of Team Free Will, anyhow?"

"How do you know all this stuff?" Margo asked Becky.

"It's in the books."

"I've got to get my grubbies on those books." Margo said, keeping her eyes on Sam. "I bet they're just totally radical."

Sam chose not to dignify those awful books by responding. "He's off somewhere."

"Oh. Mysterious, isn't he? But that was part of his character's appeal, if I remember correctly." Becky said, struggling to stand up. "Come on, Sam, help me take out these pizza boxes. They're driving me nuts, just laying out everywhere."

"Um, I'll just take them by myself." Sam reasoned. "Sit back down."

"Vesper rule number one:" Becky huffed, "Don't be out after dark by yourself. Please? I won't put a spell on you."

"How reassuring." Sam sighed, and stood up. "Just don't go into labor walking down all those stairs."

"A little exercise will do me some good. Be right back, guys."

Sam and Becky gathered up the pizza boxes and took them out. The dumpster was all the way down a few flights of fragile scaffolding, but Becky made the walk with more ease than Sam thought she would.

"Oh, good." She said, once they had tossed all the boxes into the Dumpster. "Finally got you alone. Don't look so scared, Sam. I already told you, I'm a married woman. So over my hunter phase. Sooo over it."

"That's…great? Um, we should probably get back to work…"

"I'm not finished with you, Sam Winchester. I was your wife for exactly 49 and a half hours and seven minutes, so that means you have to listen to me. And answer me honestly: Are you still mad at me about all the stuff I did to you?"

Sam paused to think for a moment, considering. "No." He said, finally. "I understand why you did what you did, and you did the right thing in the end. So no, I'm not mad."

"Then why are you mad at your brother for? Oh, don't look at me like that. I can tell. I've got eyes like a hawk."

"Is it that obvious?" Sam awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Well, I think anybody who knows you two would be able to tell. You're both so…different toward one another. It's like the entire dynamic has changed."

"It's complicated." Sam replied.

"You don't have to tell me. But I do have to ask you just one more question, though. If you can forgive me, why can't you forgive Dean for whatever it is he did? It can't be as bad as giving you a potion that controls your emotions, can it?"

Sam ran an anxious hand through his hair. "Uh, let's just not talk about it, okay? Like I said, it's…"

"Complicated." Becky finished his sentence for him. "But whatever it is, you should work it out. You guys are family. I'm not a perfect person, but even I know that much."

Sam nodded. "Thanks for the concern, Becky. But really, it's…it's just…"

"I won't make you go into any gory detail." She glanced at her watch. "It's after 8 o'clock. I really expected Dean and Waverly back by now. Do you think we should send in the calvalry?"

"How long does a rehearsal dinner last, anyway?" Sam asked.

"If I know Waverly, and I do, she'd get out of there as soon as possible without being impolite. Here, I'll try her phone. You call Dean and see what's going on. It's probably nothing, but it can't hurt to check."

Scene Break

_Previously that Friday Evening, 6:07 PM_

Dean Winchester was comfortable facing down nearly anything, in almost any situation. However, he was a bit nervous as he walked in to the country club banquet area, with his not-date on one arm.

He hadn't been to any affair like this since he and Sam had worked undercover on a case with Bela Talbot. He had decided to come, all other problems aside, because why shouldn't he? This little superheroine still had potential as an ally, and while Dean was fairly certain that someone with mystical powers could handle themselves, he wasn't really one to leave a lady in need. What if Becky was right, and something terrible did happen at the rehearsal dinner?

Waverly was still technically human, wasn't she? She might really end up needing backup. And, if Dean was being completely truthful with himself, he didn't mind a distraction from the search for Abbadon, just for an hour or two. He was scared, even if he'd never say it aloud. Not of Abbadon, and certainly not of Crowley, but of the Mark emblazoned on his arm, that made him feel like he didn't even know himself.

His not-date looked good in her costume, a long medieval gown in a dark violet. Her hair was accented with a silver and gold circlet. He didn't mind wearing a costume for this thing, either. Truth be told, he sort of liked it. It reminded him of Charlie, and coaxing Sam into a costume and seeing his brother smile, and better times overall.

He wondered briefly what Charlie was up to in Oz; if she was even alive, let alone happy with her choice to dimension jump and be a 'hero'. He felt a twinge of guilt. It would be his fault if anything happened to Charlie; that much he knew.

"You look positively dashing." Waverly proclaimed with a sarcastic smile and a fake British accent. "But really though," she returned to her normal speech, "Not many people would put on a costume to help out someone they barely knew. So thank you."

"It's not my first ridiculous costume." Dean deferred her compliment. "Lots of undercover work with this job. You'd be surprised how many things I've had to pretend to be."

"You should have been an actor." Waverly surmised. "Missed your calling?"

"Oh, no, I've had to be an actor before. Not a pretty sight."

Waverly laughed a little, but seemed nervous underneath her carefully crafted smile. "Oh, God, all my relatives are here. This is going to be miserable…" her voice trailed off as she noticed everyone else who was milling about in the banquet room. They stared at Waverly and Dean, almost open-mouthed.

"Oh." Waverly's eyes grew wide. "No one else is in costume." She hissed under her breath to Dean.

"Yeah, I noticed that." Dean said, not really sure what to do.

A group of young twenty-somethings in the corner were tittering with laughter and pointing.

"That girl in the middle of those cackling shrews? The one that looks like me but more evil and with a worse nose?" Waverly told Dean, "That's my sister, Everly. She's a real peach, that girl."

Everly made her way over to Waverly and Dean, giggling and with a glass of champagne dangling in one hand. "I can't believe you fell for that!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Oh my God, this is just such classic Waverly!"

"Hello, sis. I see that you are still a genuinely horrible human being." Waverly tersely greeted the bride-to-be.

"Oh, lighten up." Everly waved a careless hand at her sister. "Mother and Father are going to be furious at you, of course, but I had a good laugh. And the bride gets whatever she wants, right?" Everly pranced away to go mingle with the other guests, many of whom were still sneaking horrified glances at the unusually dressed Waverly and Dean.

"I honestly did not expect that." Dean said. "Do you want to leave? We can leave."

"Oh, no." Waverly's eyes glinted with mischief, over what Dean thought might be a bit of well-concealed pain. "She wanted to embarrass me? We'll see who embarrasses who. Just follow my lead, Dean. I hope you're not self-conscious."

"Waverly Ginger Tate!" A middle-aged woman hissed as she approached them. Her body language was angry enough to make Dean dislike her, but subtle enough so as not to cause a scene. She might have been pretty once, or even have aged gracefully, but overuse of Botox had turned her face into a stretched, rubbery mess. Her perfume was nearly as overwhelming as her glittering gold dress. "Just what is this little spectacle you've concocted?"

"Mother." Waverly pasted on a fake smile. "This isn't a spectacle at all. This is my new religion. I'm a neo-Medieval-Pagan-Satanite. This is how we all dress. This is my life partner, Talon." She laid her head against Dean's chest.

"We're in a committed relationship, even though neither of us believes in the institution of monogamy."

Waverly's mother covered her mouth and she gasped. "Young lady, I…"

"Oh, but I'm not done introducing Talon, mommy." Another woman came over to gawk. This one was a vaguely elderly woman with deep frown lines around her mouth.

"Waverly." She greeted with a humorless scowl.

"Great-Aunt Helen! Just in time. I was just introducing my date. This is Talon. We met online in a chat room for socialist anarchists. We Skype, mostly. That is, when he can set up his yurt close enough to a Starbucks for the Wifi. He's an entrepreneur. And by entrepreneur, I mean marijuana dealer."

"Hi." Dean chuckled, nervously.

The two women regarded Dean with cold eyes, but most of their disdain was focused on Waverly.

"I have become accustomed to you disappointing me, young lady, but this really just takes the cake." Her mother scolded. "Couldn't you just behave for one night? For your father and I? For your sister? My, God, how I ever produced such a child like you, Waverly, I'll never know." Her mother dramatically put a hand to her forehead.

"How shameful, upsetting your mother this way." Aunt Helen shook an arthritic finger at her niece.

Waverly shrugged. "Just staying true to myself, Aunt Helen. Gee, that's a nice band over there." Waverly pointed to a string quartet that was currently playing a tasteful rendition of Claire de Lune.

"Do you think they take requests? Safety Dance, anyone?" Waverly suggested.

"I was thinking Freebird." Dean chimed in.

"No one asked for your input, young man." Waverly's mother interjected. "This is a family matter."

"That young man has a name, mother."

"I'm sorry, I just can't refer to anyone by the name of…" She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "_Talon_."

"If you don't like my full name, you could use my nickname. All my friends call me Baked Alaska." Dean said, humbly. Waverly shot Dean a very grateful look.

"Waverly," her mother inhaled deeply and clenched her eyes tight as if to shut out unpleasantness. "You are going to leave, and take this young man with you. I want you back here by dessert, dressed appropriately. Honestly, this family has a reputation to think about!"

"Oh, come on, Marjorie." A man came up and interrupted. He was older, well past fifty, and dressed in an immaculately tailored suit. He was balding some atop his head, and his eyes were small and harsh. Still though, he was smiling. "We never see our prodigal daughter. Let her stay. Shall we dance, my dear? Or will Mr. Talon mind?"

"Hector, she really should go and change…" Marjorie protested weakly.

"Marjorie, let her be. Denouncing her little cry for attention will only make her act out worse. Won't it, Pumpkin?" he pinched Waverly's cheek.

"I'm not a child, dad. I'm twenty-six, for Godssakes. And since when do you call me Pumpkin?"

"Then I suppose you won't let me push you around the dance floor, like old times?" Hector asked. "Come on, dear, it's Everly's wedding weekend. Be a sport, would you?"

"Okay, fine." Waverly relented. She turned toward Dean. "Uh, Talon, you cool by yourself for a bit?"

Dean nodded, really wishing that he could leave this den of snakes. He made his way over toward a refreshments table as Waverly's father took her hand and led toward a small dance floor.

"I feel like it's been such a long time, Waverly." Hector said as they began to dance. "Relax your shoulders, dear; you're so tense."

"Sorry, it's just…I'm tense." She shrugged.

"What on earth does a hotel clerk have to worry about? It's not as if you have any real responsibilities. Not like your sister. Medical school. _And _she's marrying a lawyer." Hector spun Waverly elegantly.

"Oh, Dad. You're such a charmer, still." She replied, rolling her eyes. He hadn't said anything that they hadn't told her a million times before now. "Can we just get this over with?"

"Oh, but, _Pumpkin_." Hector blinked, revealing eyes as black as pitch. He smiled wickedly at Waverly, as his took on a sinister timbre. "We're only just getting started, you and I."

_Well yay for my first official cliffhanger! Thanks to all my reviewers; hopefully you're still enjoying this little project of mine. Send me a review and let me know what you think!_


	6. Call Me Mephisto

_Okay, so a quick announcement before we begin: This was going to be a short spring break piece. However, due to some pretty amazing feedback, a few wild ideas in this noggin of mine, and the fact that my friends took me out for dinner and didn't bring me home for three days (lots of hiking, craft beer, and mountain yoga. Long story.), this isn't going to wrap up as quickly as I intended. Hope you guys don't mind an extra chapter or so! Thanks for sticking with this story! You guys are the best._

Chapter 6:

"Oh but _Pumpkin_," Hector blinked, revealing eyes as black as pitch. He smiled sinisterly at Waverly, as his voice took on a sinister timbre. "We're only just getting started, you and I."

"Mephistopheles." Waverly recoiled, but the demon grabbed her arms and held her fast.

"No, no, my dear. You mustn't cause a fuss. I might have to slaughter all these people. Keep dancing, dear. Don't let on. That hunter you're with will only raise a ruckus and spoil our time." The demon clucked his tongue in disappointment. "Hanging 'round those pesky Winchesters. You've really let me down, young lady. I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed." He grinned.

"Come outside with me." Waverly goaded. "And you'll see what I do to bastards who screw with my town."

"I've been in Daddy's head, dear pet. And he's not got the foggiest idea that his youngest child is the Protector. He hasn't a clue that the town he lives in is a supernatural battleground. And something tells me that the others don't know, either, do they? Is that why you want to go outside? So they don't see? Or are you trying to protect them from getting caught in the crossfire? Perhaps a bit of both. How noble."

"Get out of him, Mephistopheles." Waverly hissed through her teeth. "I mean it."

"Call me Mephisto, pet. We're familiars. No need to be so formal."

"I'll make you sorry." Waverly threatened.

"Won't you?" Mephisto chuckled, amused. "You won't use your powers in front of all these people. We both know it. Not that you can exercise me, anyway. I'm far too powerful."

"We'll see about that." Waverly said, glaring at the demon.

Mephisto grabbed her face and pressed a paternal kiss upon her forehead. He stared into her eyes, intent on breaking her courage. "I'm going to destroy everything and consume everyone you've ever loved. And then I'm going to suck your gleaming little soul through a straw."

Waverly jerked out of his grasp, not caring about making a scene any longer.

"Get out of my father."

"I rather like this vessel." Mephisto beamed. "Cooperate and maybe I won't damage it."

Waverly met Dean's eyes from across the room and saw the flash of metal as he pulled his demon-killing blade from his sleeve. He stealthily made his way across the dance floor, but Mephisto noticed Waverly's gesture and turned, facing Dean before he could come upon him from behind.

"Mr. Winchester. Just the man I wanted to see. Do you remember me? It's been a hell of a long time." Mephisto winked. "Get it? I haven't seen you since hell?"

By this time, other dancers and party goers had begun to notice that something was amiss.

Waverly's mother crossed the floor and put a hand on her husband's arm.

"Hector, what's wrong? What did Waverly do now? Did she upset you?"

"Quiet, woman!" Mephisto demanded, refusing her touch. "There is much to do, and we must away. The man and I have business, then I shall take care of our daughter."

"Hector," Marjorie feigned a laugh, embarrassed at the attention they were getting. "What in tarnation has gotten into you?"

"He was just telling me that he was leaving." Waverly said. "Important mayor things to attend to. But he didn't want to make a scene. Because he knew that it wouldn't benefit either party. Right, _Dad_?"

"You can't leave, Hector." Marjorie crossed her arms. "This is your daughter's rehearsal dinner. Just have your secretary take care of whatever it is. Hector? Hector, people are staring."

Mephisto, tired from the dull exchange, snapped. "I said, quiet, woman!"

Waverly took the moment of distraction to grab both his arms and drag him away. Try though he might, Mephisto couldn't match Waverly's physical strength as she held him fast. She chuckled, lightly, at the crowd of gasping surveyors. "Let's take this outside, Dean. Keep your knife out; we may need it."

"Let go of me, you freakish bitch!" Mephisto exclaimed. "I can't smoke out! What did you do to me?"

"Don't mind us." She laughed. "We're rehearsing for a skit. All for the promotion of Third Street Community Theater, home of the bottomless popcorn bucket!" She proclaimed this with some bravado, and the high-society types that surrounded them began to titter excitedly and clap their limp hands.

"You can forward your donations to the mayor's office." Waverly improvised. "And catch us in our new show, "The Demon In My Father", a murder mystery, running Thursday nights at eight o'clock."

She dragged Mephisto out of the ballroom with Dean Winchester keeping guard with his knife, in case other demons were around. They could still hear applause as they made their way into the street.

"Idiots. They're all idiots." Waverly said, "Thankfully. Now, what are we gonna do with this son of a bitch?" She asked Dean.

"Oh, gloat now." Mephisto chuckled. "I've bested better foes than you two."

"You're the one who's trapped, Mephisto." Waverly said.

"How, exactly?" Dean asked.

"I carved devil's traps into the bones of my fingers." Waverly explained. "I heal fast; it didn't hurt much."

"Badass." Dean said, appreciatively.

"Oh, get a room." Mephisto groaned. "My word, how I hate you lot."

"Dean." Waverly intoned, her face strangely expressionless. "Kill him."

"No." Dean said, taking a step back. "That's your father."

"We may never get another opportunity like this again." Waverly explained. "It has to be done."

"I remember taking you to the horse races." Mephisto said, using Hector's voice. "My two baby girls, in frilly white dresses. And you spilled chocolate ice cream down the whole front of it, and embarrassed your mother. But you loved the horses, and you tied your balloon to my hand so it wouldn't get lost and you kissed my cheek and told me that it was the best day of your life. You were only four years old. My little girl."

"Shut up." Waverly tightened her grip on the demon even as a lump formed in her throat. "Dean, kill him. Now."

Dean shook his head. "You'll regret it. Family comes first, Waverly. Even if, in your case, it doesn't seem like a great one." The knife itched in his hand, eager to cut into the man. He resisted the urge, though, tramping those feelings down. "Think. How could we get the demon out of your dad if he can't be exorcised?"

"We could take him to the pool." Waverly answered. "It has cleansing powers. But I can't guarantee what will happen. It's unpredictable."

"Better than shoving a knife under your father's ribs." Dean answered. "Come on, let's find that magic pool of yours."

"You don't understand the power you're messing with, Dean." Waverly said. "It could backfire on us. Whatever it is that keeps this place supercharged has a will of its own."

"You'll thank me later." Dean said, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, gag. This is a disgusting display of weakness. Just kill me and get it over with, hmm?" Mephistopheles teased. "Or can't you do it, Winchester? Aren't you strong enough?"

"Shut up." Dean told the demon.

"Don't act so great. Word gets around, and I hear that the Righteous Man isn't so pure anymore."

"What's he talking about?" Waverly asked Dean, as they walked their captive down Main Street and in the direction of the forest.  
"He's trying to get in our heads." Dean explained.

"So he hasn't told you?" Mephisto asked, gleefully. "He's got the Mark of Cain, a gift from Lucifer himself."

"I know about the Mark." Waverly said. "Shut up."

"Or what? Anything that hurts me hurts dear old Daddy, remember? How disappointed he'd be if he knew what you were, Waverly. Assuming he could fully understand, of course. And if he knew the company you kept, well, perhaps he's right in feeling that you're his least favorite child. Sometimes, and by sometimes I mean often, he wishes that they'd stopped with Everly. She was the perfect daughter, after all. You brought nothing but shame to your family, didn't you?"

"Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you." Dean threatened. "She can't hurt her father, but I can."

"I'm not afraid of you, Righteous Man." Mephistopheles replied, snarkily. "You're in league with Crowley; this much I know. And he's lost his touch. To be honest, so have the famed Winchester brothers. What happened? Are you boys getting soft in your old age?"

"I'm not in league with Crowley." Dean said.

"Don't talk back to him." Waverly told Dean. "You only give him more ammunition."

They had reached the treeline, and entered the dark, ancient woods.

"Be on your guard." Waverly cautioned Dean. "There's plenty of things in here that would like nothing better than to pick a fight with us."

Dean nodded, and glanced around the dark forest, scanning for threats. The whole place was eerily still, even as their feet trod on a soft carpet of fallen pine needles, nothing seemed to make a noise aside from Mephistopheles' jibes.

"How does it feel to be King Crowley's attack dog?" Mephistopheles asked Dean. "I hear it's a pretty short leash he keeps you on."

"The Winchesters aren't working with Crowley." Waverly rolled her eyes. "Hunters wouldn't work with the King of Hell. Shut up and keep walking. If you alert a windigo or a pack of hobs to our location, father or not, I'll feed you to them alive."

"You're a cold bitch, you know that?" Mephisto prattled on. "You'd have let Righteous Man chop up Daddy, without a second thought. Then again, that's what happened to your fiancé, wasn't it? And your aunt? You let them die for your cause. You as good as murdered them, because you can't let your little crusade go."

"Keep on talking." Waverly gritted her teeth. "There's nothing you can say to knock me off kilter. You're not special. You think I haven't heard that shit from other demons before? Yawn. Find a new shtick."

"And you, Dean." Mephistopheles continued on, unfazed. "You think I can't feel the rage flowing through you? The desire to kill? The darkness in your power? It's the Mark, and it's taking you. Slowly but surely, no matter how you fight it. You're becoming what you hunt. You're…"

Mephistopheles was cut off as Dean's fist connected with his jaw.

The demon only laughed. "Do you know why I'm going to be the greatest god, once I take the souls I need? Because I'm no ordinary demon. I can see inside people, see their deepest pains and desires. Everybody wants something. And then I destroy them by giving them precisely what they want."

"You're a has-been." Waverly remarked. "You haven't even been mentioned in lore since Faust. And you were defeated by a bookworm and a milkmaid."

"Oh, really?" Mephistopheles smiled, mysteriously. "Shows your foolishness, then. I devoured Faust's soul after he lost it to me. And you two have done exactly as I planned. I wanted you alone, so I could give you precisely what you both want. Say it, and it will be yours. Just release me. Dean, you can kill Abaddon. And then Crowley right after. Then, I will give each of you whatever your hearts desire, if only you can help me take the throne."

"Oh, please." Waverly rolled her eyes. "Do you honestly think we're that dense? To deal with a demon?"

"You both have before." Mephisto pointed out, delighted to do so.

"Well," Waverly glanced at Dean, wondering what he had needed to deal for. He had set his jaw tightly, frowning. Obviously it wasn't something that he enjoyed being brought up. Waverly remembered her past, and she couldn't blame the hunter. "We both learned our lessons, then, didn't we?"

She wondered what Dean Winchester's connection to King Crowley was. Mephistopheles was a lot of things, but he wasn't really a liar. Then again, Becky had vouched for both the Winchester brothers, and Waverly certainly trusted her friend more than her nemesis. She made a mental note to ask Dean about it later, when they didn't have a power-mad demon to contend with.

"We're almost there." Waverly pointed to an orange sign nailed to a tree that warned, "Caution: Radiation Ahead".

"We had to put up signs." Waverly explained. "People kept trying to swim up here. It's too dangerous for them."

"I love it." Mephistopheles marveled, breathless.

"All that energy, bubbling to the surface, manifesting in such disastrous, chaotic ways. Oh, sometimes you get what you want, other times, you get what you need. And so often, it ends terribly for whoever touches the water. Like little miss Waverly here. She got caught up in its spell, lured to its side because she was vulnerable. All because she ached for purpose, for something more in her paltry existence. The life of a high society girl just wasn't good enough for her." Mephistopheles laughed. "I bet those cotillions and debutante balls don't seem so bad now, do they, Waverly?"

"Alright, that's it." Dean tore the hem off his costume and tied it around Mephisto's mouth.

"Why didn't we think of that right from the start?" Waverly sighed, guiding them all up a steep mountainside. It leveled out at the top, revealing a deep, indigo basin that pooled in an indentation of bedrock. Age-old trees swayed around it, dipping their roots in the moonlit shallows.

Dean took a deep breath. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but notice the air. It was the most pure, life-giving air he'd ever taken into his lungs, and he couldn't help but feel lured into the crystalline water.

"Dean, don't let me touch that water, okay? And don't you do it, either. No matter how it calls to you..." Waverly warned, her eyes unfocused and dazed. Her voice sounded dreamy and far off.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked her, and she nodded, absently, moonlight glinting off the water and reflecting in her spellbound eyes.

"All is well." She said, in a voice that didn't sound quite like her own. Her grip loosened on the demon as she relaxed her body, turning the palms of her hands towards the sky in a reverent gesture.

Her face became peaceful as she fell to her knees, mouthing inaudible words in a rushed tangle. Her body took on a dull, white glow that radiated in and away from her body with each inhale and exhale.

"Waverly, hey!" Dean shouted at her, while he tackled Mephistopheles to the ground. The demon only laughed.

"She's deeply connected to this place, you morons. The ley line does with the girl as it sees fit. And it looks like it wants her incapacitated."

Dean pressed his knife against the soft part of the demon's throat.

"Kill me." Mephistopheles challenged. "I can feel how much you want to. You could battle the hordes of the pit for a millennium and never sate your bloodlust."

Dean's hands shook as Mephistopheles laughed again. He wanted nothing more than to draw his knife over the man's throat, to silence him once and for all, to feel the hot blood rush over his hands as the life poured out of him…

Dean resisted the urge, and instead wrestled the demon to the edge of the rock outcropping they were standing on, and tossed him over the edge and into the placid pool. Mephistopheles smoked out of the body before he hit the water, and his laughter echoed through the mountains as he vanished.

"God fucking dammit!" Dean cursed, and jumped in after Waverly's father. He could easily drown, without the demon in his body. It was very likely that he would remain unconscious and be unable to save himself.

The water was deeper than Dean had expected, but it was also much warmer, almost like bathwater.

He grabbed Hector, and hauled him to the rock-lined shore. Sure enough, the man was unconscious. He seemed to be breathing, though, which was a relief. Dean sighed, and looked up to the craggy overhang where Waverly was exactly as he'd left her; kneeling with her eyes closed and mumbling words that Dean didn't understand.

"Waverly!" He called up to her, and she didn't stir from her strange trance.

He climbed up the side of the incline once more, not an easy feat when dripping wet, and tried to rouse her. "Waverly! Snap the hell out of it, come on!"

He moved closer, and could hear the words that she was chanting under her breath.

"Atohi. Caddi Ayo. Atohi. Caddi Ayo. Cah kee ah shu we. Cah kee ah shu we. Atohi. Caddi Ayo. Atohi…"

"Awesome." Dean muttered under his breath. "I broke the superhero."

He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her, hoping that that would be enough to bring her around. "Waverly, come on, now. I know you're in there somewhere, right? We've got work to do. Let's go find your demon. Waverly. Waverly, snap out of it."

A few water droplets slid off of Dean and dribbled down onto Waverly.

The glow around her grew, causing Dean to shield his eyes before he blacked out.

_Well, sorry for another cliffhanger. And don't worry, Sam lovers! The next chapter will focus on the youngest Winchester. Please leave me a review to let me know what you're thinking. I so very much adore feedback! Questions? Comments? It's also a great motivator to get chapters out at a fast pace._

_Fun Facts:_

_-When Waverly mentions Faust, it's actually a really fantastic classic novel (it features a demon named Mephistopheles) I recommend it very much._

_-The language she's chanting is actually a Native American language from the Caddoan dialect._

_Have a great day, all! _

_-Liv_


	7. Thankless Jobs

_Sorry for the delay in posting. Unfortunately, there has been a death in my family this past week, so I've been involved in hospital visits, funeral affairs, etc. Glad to be back and typing!_

"And that's when I realized that I was dead. I looked down at my now see-through body and said, 'Damn. If I'd known I was gonna die today, I'd have worn better clothes!'" Margot laughed, nudging Sam's arm for him to join her. He remained unfazed by her efforts, however, intent on his attempt to call Dean.

"Margot, for gossamer's sake, could you let the man alone?" Elspeth rolled her eyes. "We could have a real emergency here."

"Yeah." Becky took her own phone off her ear and hung up. "Waverly's phone keeps going straight to voicemail."

"Dean's, too." Sam said.

"Alan, can you go try to peek in the Veil?" Becky asked. "Maybe they know what's up."

"Why does sometink _alvays_ have to 'up' _vith_ you people?" Heinrich asked. "Can't _ve_ ever just have a normal night?"

"Not in this locale."Alan replied. "I'll go in the back, where it's quieter. Talk to some of my contacts."

"Thanks." Sam told him. "I'll go to this rehearsal dinner and check on them myself. Call me if you find out what's going on." He got off the barstool and started for the door, but Becky interrupted him.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to get my brother."

"Alone? No offense, but if something's wrong, and it was bad enough to hurt Waverly, you'd be no match for it. She's-"

"Superpowered." Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. That might have come up a few times, but-"

"There was an altercation." The air in the room shifted briefly as Castiel appeared, seemingly from nowhere.

"Cas!" Sam exclaimed. "How'd you know where we were?"

"Dean called me a few hours ago. He said something about…" Castiel trailed off as he surveyed the ragtag group assembled in the small bar area. "He said you'd found something 'weird'. Is that a vampire?"

"_Ya."_ Heinrich said. "And _vat_ exactly are you?"

"I'm an angel." Castiel replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "But there isn't much time. Sam, we need to find your brother. I tracked him by his cell phone and found it in the woods, by a pool."

Alan groaned and put his head in his hands. "No. Dammit!"

"What? What's the problem?" Sam asked.

"The pool is…well…" Becky frowned. "Nothing particularly good happens there."

"Come on, Cas. Show me exactly where you found his phone."

"Do you think Waves was with him?" Becky asked, more to Alan than to Cas.

"What's a 'Waves'?" Castiel asked.

"Of course she was with him." Alan said. "Have you ever known her not to be right in middle of everything? We'll go with you guys." He regarded Castiel warily. "But I'm watching you. I don't trust angels."

"You can trust this one." Sam assured him. "Come on."

"Right. Let me get my wrap. It's a little chilly tonight." Becky said, struggling to stand up.

"Whoa. You're not going anywhere." Alan said. "You're about to pop. Isn't Clive expecting you home?"

"Clive understands my job." Becky said. "And anyway, Dean took the Impala. And none of you other yahoos have a car. So, I'm driving, unless your friend can teleport us all there."

"Becky, you-"

"Don't start with me, Alan. We're finding Dean and Waverly, and I'm going. I'm not due for another two weeks. It's fine."

"Whatever. There no use arguing. The rest of you guys stay here and keep researching. We'll be in touch. Keep your phones on. Margot, all the liquor is inventoried and I will know if steal my hooch."

They went out the door, and Alan put a hand around Becky to guide her down the precarious stairs.

"This place is strange." Castiel said. "The energy here is unbalanced."

"Tell me about it." Alan replied. "Let's go find them."

"They can't be far." Sam said.

Becky and Alan exchanged a look.

"Maybe not." Becky pepped, optimistically.

"I'll go on ahead." Castiel said, vanishing.

"That's not annoying at all." Alan snarked.

"You're just angel racist." Becky informed him.

"Angel racist isn't a thing." Alan said. "I just don't like angels."

"Castiel is a good guy. Right, Sam?"

"Most of the time." Sam said, distractedly.

"Here, I've got weapons in my truck." Becky said, as Alan popped the hatch of Becky's tiny Honda Civic. "Take your pick."

"You've really gotten into this." Sam observed, marveling at the tiny, high-strung pregnant woman.

"Yeah, well, you can't very well know what's out there and not want to help out. Especially with the baby coming. I want a good world for it to live in."

She climbed into the driver's seat, while Sam and Alan followed suit.

"I moved here after the, _you know_. That wedding fiasco. Buckle your seatbelts, gentlemen. Were you raised in a barn? And anyway, fighting evil wasn't really my plan. I got a job as a funeral director. It was morbid, but it helped people, in a way that I was able to help them. And then I met Waverly. The rest is history, and I've been fighting the good fight ever since."

"For a salary." Alan reminded her. "Waverly pays you to be her personal assistant."

"Well, I'm not always fetching her lattes, thank you very much. It's a dangerous job. Alan doesn't think that people who do work like this should profit from it." She explained.

"I don't get a check. It's a thankless job, and honestly, it ought to be. You don't see Sam getting a paycheck every month, do you, Becky?" Alan retorted, adjusting the string on the crossbow he'd selected.

"We get along fine." Sam said, not wanting in the middle of their squabbles, and also focused on the task at hand. "What can we expect to find in these woods?"  
"Oh, anything, really." Alan said. "We've got a bit of everything around here."

"Yeah, it's a varied demographic." Becky said. "A machete will almost take care of anything you'll find in there, though." She gestured to a long blade she had wedged between the driver's seat and console.

"I didn't want to go in here." Alan groaned. "I wanted to watch Firefly and eat nachos."

Becky pulled on the shoulder of the road, and unbuckled as quickly as she could. "Maybe we can all do that later, together. When we find them."

"Yeah. When we find them." Sam stepped out of the car, brandishing his gun, his senses on alert as he followed Becky and Alan into the woods where Castiel, and hopefully Dean, were waiting for him.

Scene Break

Dean awoke to the smell of a campfire, on a bed of soft grass, new and tender as in early spring.

He opened his eyes and stretched, taking in his surroundings.

Waverly was nearby, using a long birch stick to tend to the fire. She had on jeans and a tank top with boots and a neatly tailored brown leather jacket. Dean noticed that he was in his usual jeans and tee with a flannel shirt over it. How had they changed clothes?

It was still dark out, and her face was illuminated by the soft flames.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked.

"Oh, good. You're awake." Waverly perked up, smiling a little. "You were out for hours. I was starting to worry."

"You were…" Dean paused to rub his eyes, feeling very much like he'd been asleep for days. "You were really out of it back there. Are you okay now? You feel normal?"

"Yes." Waverly nodded, cringing. "Sorry about that. Um, I guess I wasn't…" she sighed. "I guess I wasn't completely honest with you and your brother. When I said that I was entirely myself with my powers, with my mark. I'm not always in control, per se."

"Yeah, I sort of gathered that." Dean took a seat next to her by the fire. "So what now? What are we still doing out here? You should have taken me back to Sam, and gone after your demon, once you snapped out of whatever the hell happened to you."

"Dean." Waverly frowned. "I'm gonna put this as gently as I know how. We're not on earth anymore."

"Excuse me?"

"We're in a pocket of the veil. A flipside. It's called Otherton. I don't really remember what happened after I fell under the pool's spell. I'm assuming that one or both of us touched the water?"

"I had to save your dad." Dean explained, tensing and reaching instinctively into his jacket for a weapon. "So, this is like Purgatory?"

"Not at all." Waverly said. "Purgatory is much worse than this place, trust me. Been there, done that." She rubbed the back of her neck, subconsciously, and Dean noticed that she had a long, knotted scar down the length of it.

"So this…flipside." Dean frowned. "How do we get back?"

"Only a planewalker or a reaper can get us out. Or if who controls the ley line decides we can leave. I've been here a few times; he's an okay guy, if you catch him in the right mood. He's not always cooperative."

"Who's the guy?" Dean asked.

"He's a pagan god." Waverly explained. "He has many names. The natives here called him Caddo Ayi."

"Well, let's go find that bastard and have him send us back. We have things to do."

"We can try. He doesn't always want to be found, though. Our best bet is to wait for Alan to figure out we're in Otherton, and he'll come get us. Caddo Ayi is rarely cooperative."

She stomped out the fire.

"Come on. Let's walk into the main part of this dimension. We can get more intel at the diner. That's the rendezvous point we decided on. If he comes looking for us here, that's where he'll go."

"Yeah, that's a good plan." Dean said. "Anything to watch out for in here? Do the dead here take kindly to humans or will they try to rip us to shreds?"  
"Just depends on who…or _what_…we bump into." Waverly replied. "Here, take my hand. We don't need to get separated." She grabbed his hand, and took a hasty step, pulling him forward. The light shifted from night to day, and they were suddenly indoors. In a spacious and bustling airport terminal, to be exact. An enormous conveyor belt rotated rows of luggage around the room, like the world's slowest and most boring carousel.

"What the hell?" Dean asked as Waverly groaned.

"This isn't the diner. I hate this place. You never know where you're gonna end up."

"Baggage Claim!" A thin man declared, hurrying over to them. "Welcome to the baggage claim! Find your baggage and unpack it so you can move on past the gate."

"We don't want to go past the gate." Waverly said. "We're flesh-and-bloods."

The man gawked at them, curiously.

"That must mean that one of you is the Protector. Howdy! We're so pleased to have someone of your standing here at the Baggage Claim! Which of you is it? Is it you, sir?"

Dean shook his head, gesturing to Waverly. "She's it."

"My apologies, ma'am. You're just so small. I assumed the Protector would be more burly. More…"

"Not a woman, you mean?" Waverly finished his sentence for him. "There haven't been many female Protectors. I get it. Not the first time I've been told that."

"Well," The man stared at her. "Aren't ya'll gonna check your baggage?"

"No." Waverly said, crossing her arms.

"Sorry, Miss, but them's the rules. Ya'll can't leave the baggage claim until you've pulled your baggage off the conveyor."

He snapped his fingers and the conveyor belt suddenly surrounded them. He read off a clipboard as suitcases twirled around them, carefully labeled in big, red letters.

"Dean Winchester, my board says." He looked down his glasses at Dean. "Yours is heavy, but it's all packed into three bags. Thems the rules. We can only let our customers have three bags apiece. Otherwise, this place would be much too full. Let me list them off for you. Ahem. One: "People You Didn't Save." That's a super heavy one. Two: We've got "Sam Winchester"…"

Dean punched him in the face, but the man only rolled his eyes as Dean's fist passed through him.

"Sorry, fleshy, I'm incorporeal. But I'll stop if you want. As for the lady, you two have matching baggage. Her number one is also labeled, "People You Didn't Save.""

"Screw you." Waverly said, looking stricken. "That's nobody's business. We can't save everyone."

The man ignored her rudeness and continued to read down his clipboard. "The other two are simply names. Nova Tamsen and Atlas Fletcher. Please collect your baggage and move on."

"No." Waverly said. "We're trying to get to the diner. Help us get there, or so help me, I'll…well, I'll tell Caddo Ayi that you were making things difficult for the Protector."

"You Protectors." The man scoffed. "Always throwing your weight around, bossing people around."

"Just show us the way to the diner." Waverly said, impatiently. "I've got things to do besides follow people around with a clipboard and make them relive their worst memories."

"It's a hard job, but somebody has to do it." The man replied, offended.

"Just show us the way out of this place." Dean insisted. "We're in a hurry."

"Whatever." The man huffed. "I forgot how selfish humans can be. Always in a hurry." He pointed his ballpoint pen just behind Waverly and Dean. "The path is that way. Just stay on the trail, and don't say I didn't warn you about the things in the dark."

When Dean and Waverly turned around, both the man and the airport terminal vanished and gave way to a bleak forest. A thin path was cut through the trees, and seemed to stretch for miles beyond what their eyes could see.

"Oh, awesome." Dean said. "Shifting realities. More freakin' woods."

"All in a day's work." Waverly pasted on a smile for his benefit. "Shall we?"

_This was kind of slow, but it sets up action for great things to come. Please leave a review and let me know how this can be better! What do you guys think would be written on Dean's third piece of baggage? Tell me and I'll give you a shout-out in the next chapter! _


	8. The Endless Wood

_Well, ncsupnatfan said that the third piece of baggage was the Mark of Cain, and Lewlou15 surmises Daddy issues. Miuda 22 thinks that it's all the lies Dean has told. This one hadn't actually occurred to me, but I like it a lot._

_Dean has so many problems, it could honestly be anything in that suitcase. Thanks for guessing, guys!_

Chapter 8

Becky, Alan, Sam, and Castiel had gathered around where Dean's cellphone had been found.

"There's not a trace of them." Alan said, feeling the ground, his eyes closed. "They were here, though. Not long ago."

Alan stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans.

"You can go get them, right?" Sam asked.

"If they're in Otherton, I can." Alan said.

"I don't like those odds." Sam said. "Where else could they have gone?"

"Purgatory. Avalon. Any number of places." Alan ran a nervous hand through his shaggy hair and removed a flask from his jacket.

"But Otherton is the most likely." Becky explained.

"Then that is where we will begin our search." Castiel said. "I understand that you are a planewalker?" he acknowledged Alan.

"Yeah, that's me." Alan took a swig from his flask.

"Can you bring others with you?" Castiel inquired.

"I'm not a pack mule, angel." Alan snarked.

"That angel has a name." Sam pointed out. "And we're going with you."

"I can go alone. You'd both just be extra weight."

"That's my brother in there!" Sam insisted. "What would you do if Waverly was your sister?"

"She may as well be my little sister." Alan bristled. "I'll get your brother out. I don't need backup."

"Alan, take someone." Becky crossed her arms. "My word, but your ego borders on exhausting sometimes. What if you run into trouble?"

"Fine." Alan huffed. "But only one. You're not staying here alone, Becky. You'd be dinner in a half hour."

"You're taking me." Sam said, stubbornly.

"Is that wise?" Castiel asked his friend. "I should be able to locate Dean more readily than you."

"I have to do this." Sam frowned. "When you two were in Purgatory, I…I didn't come for either of you. I'm not doing that again."

Castiel nodded in grave understanding. "Very well. I'll guard the woman. Although I've never been this close to a woman with child before. What if it tries to come out? Should I push it back in?" he lowered his voice so only Sam could hear.

"Do not do that under any circumstances. It won't come out, though." Sam replied glancing dubiously at Becky's swollen belly. "Okay, Alan. Let's go. How does this work?"

"Easy." Alan grinned with more than a slight touch of bravado. He grabbed Sam's arm and took a step forward, pulling the hunter along with him.

Sam found himself in a fifties-style chrome diner. Customers sat around in the vinyl booths, many of them unnaturally still and peering into menus, some of which were nothing more than blank sheets of paper. The windows didn't have any view of an outside, but instead showed that they were in the midst of a swirling mass of shifting grey fog, interspersed with prisms and fractals of unearthly light.

An elderly woman in an old fashioned uniform walked over, tightening the strings on her polka dotted apron.

"Alan." She greeted. "Here to talk to these people about their unfinished business? Give them some closure?"

Alan shook his head. "I haven't got time for that now, Peg. Have you seen Waverly anywhere? We think she might be here, with a friend. Dude about yea high…" Alan held up his hand to measure, "With brown hair and green eyes."

Peg shrugged. "They haven't been by, but Walter from Baggage Claim said he had the Protector and another flesh-and-blood over at his end. Sent them my way, he said."

"From Baggage Claim? No. Damn it, Walter!" Alan pounded his fist against the countertop.

"What's Baggage Claim?" Sam asked.

"They only path they could take from there to here is through the Endless Wood."Alan frowned.

"Something tells me that that isn't a great place to be?" Sam asked, feeling a tremor of trepidation.

"Not if you're a flesh-and-blood, Fabio." Peg remarked. "You'd both be better off to wait for them here than to go a'lookin in them woods. You boys want I should bring you somethin' to eat? While you wait for your friends?"

"They have real food here?" Sam asked. "Why do ghosts need food?"

A few of the spirits around in their seats and glared at Sam.

"No offense." Sam held up hands in a gesture of surrender.

"He's new." Alan apologized, and they calmed down, many of them resuming their placid, frozen poses. "Dude, you can't call them 'ghosts'. It's offensive."

Scene Break

Dean knocked on the door of the house, feeling a bit anxious. Bobby and Sam flanked him on either side, offering moral support.

"You sure you shouldn't of called first?" Bobby asked.

Dean shook his head. "No, she'd only have hung up. She has to see me." He nervously ran a hand through his hair.

"Whatever you say." Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Just a minute!" a woman's voice called from inside the house. Even from outside, Dean could hear the heavy clomp of Waverly's feet as she came down the stairs. For someone so small, she made a lot of noise when she walked. Dean sucked in a breath, surprised at how quickly his heart was beating. He supposed he was alive again, after all.

She answered the door in the dress he liked so well, a sundress in a froth of white lace layered with his old leather jacket. _Was she thinner?_ Dean wondered, and noted that he'd need to have her eat more. Her jaw dropped open and her eyes went wide as she took in the sight of him.

"Hey, you." Dean said, softly, taking her hand. "That's uh…don't you think that dress is a little impractical? For patrolling, I mean."

"You son of a bitch!" Waverly's face snapped from one of shock and confusion and into an expression of pure rage. She grabbed Dean by his shirt collar and pulled him into the house, pinning him against the way.

"Of all things for you to take the shape of!" she hissed through her teeth. "You evil bastard!"

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" Bobby held up his hands to intervene. "That's Dean. That's actually Dean."

"It's me; I'm back." Dean panted, wincing. "God, Waves. I forgot how strong you were."

"How do I know you're actually Bobby? And Sam? What's the safeword, guys?"

"Rock lobster." Bobby rolled his eyes. "It's us, and that's him. Could you let go of him before you break him? Boy only just got back from…"

"I don't believe it." Waverly gasped.

"I had a similar reaction." Sam said.

"Sam?" Waverly asked, as if noticing him for the first time. "Is this really him?"

Sam nodded. "Bobby did all the tests."

"It's me, Waves." Dean reached out to cup her face. "I'm back."

Waverly trembled as her pleading eyes met his. "Don't you lie to me."

"Never." Dean said, and Waverly's tough resolve melted away in a flood of tears. She released her hold on him as he pulled her close, clutching her to his chest and kissing the top of her head.

"Shh. It's okay, baby. It's okay. I'm not going anywhere." He stroked her hair while she sobbed.

"You son of a bitch! You were dead! You died, and you promised you wouldn't…" she wailed. "After the hellhounds, and Lilith, we buried you." She reached out with shaking hands to touch his face, as if he wasn't real. She reeled in her emotions as quickly as they'd erupted, and began to frantically wipe her eyes, smearing her black in the process.

"Dean…"she bit her lip, and chuckled a little, "I'm sorry, Dean. I must look a hot mess!"

"You're beautiful." Dean responded, kissing her once on the forehead, then on the lips.

"Let's give 'em some privacy." Bobby said deftly to Sam, and gestured toward the door.

Sam nodded and followed Bobby out to the waiting car and…

"_Dean?"_ A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I'm right here." He groggily mumbled, not wanting to open his eyes.

"Dean, rise and shine." Waverly shook him awake. "Hey!"

Dean sat up, a bit disoriented, and frowned at the expanse of trees around him. What a strange dream.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"Just a few hours." Waverly explained, standing on her tiptoes and trying to see sky through the dense canopy above them that made the entire forest foreboding and gloomy.

"I had the weirdest dream." Dean rubbed his eyes and sat up.

"Yeah, okay, Dorothy." Waverly teased. "We need to get moving, though. We don't want to get lost in here, if we aren't already. They don't call this the Endless Wood for nothing. We could walk in circles forever. And we've already been in here for a day and a half."

"Do you ever sleep?" Dean asked. He hadn't once even noticed her looking tempted to doze, in the entire time they'd been on this trek.

"Somebody had to watch you sleep." Waverly shrugged. "I don't need much rest. Superpowers and whatnot."

"Yeah." Dean stood up and brushed pine needles off his clothes.

Waverly ran her hands through her semi-tangled hair. "I'm sorry, Dean. I must look like a hot mess." She apologized. "Okay, you ready?"

"What did you just say?"

"Oh, my hair never cooperates in Otherton. It's like, high humidity in here or something. I don't know. Jeez, you look like you've just seen a ghost." She shrugged and started walking westward on the footpath once more.

"It's nothing." Dean said, hoping that he was concealing his facial expression well. Unlike most dreams or nightmares, this particular one stuck in his head, every bit as real as an actual memory. "But I can't wait to get out of this helltown."

"You and me both. You coming?" Waverly beckoned. "I'm thirsty, and I think there may be a spring this way."

Dean had never particularly liked hiking. He would do it, if a job called for it, and wouldn't complain. But walking for walking's sake had always been more of Sam's thing. The miles down the path were made tedious by the rows of trees that were all seemingly identical.

"Boring, huh? I hate the Endless Wood. When me and Alan are here, we always pass the time by playing twenty questions." Waverly said.

"Oh, wow, that sounds…awful." Dean said.

"Normally,yeah. But it's high stakes twenty questions." Waverly explained. "Haven't you noticed some strange things about this place? No one can lie in Otherton. You can choose not to answer a question, but everything you say will be painfully, astringically true."

"That sounds like the worst game imaginable." Dean said with conviction. "That's a big 'hell no'."

"Well, that's no fun, but seeing as you're new to all this, I suppose I'll let this one slide." Waverly smiled. "Where on earth did you get that amazing black car?"

"It was my dad's." Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, a bit unsettled by the forced honesty policy in this dimension.

Of course, he had a feeling that the disturbances had only just begun. That was, after all, how things went in his life, didn't they?

_Alright, that's all for tonight! Any suggestions or comments? Please review! _

_Happy Passover and Happy Easter! Enjoy the weekend feasting!_

_For all my Southern readers, isn't the phrase, "I look a hot mess." just beyond delightful?_

_Drop me a line, and tell me what you think!_


	9. Impromptu Musical Numbers

_Okay, this chapter is sort of odd, but remember: it takes place in a pocket dimension. Also, prepare yourself for a major twist._

"How much longer?" Dean asked, impatiently. It had been three days of walking, with only what little food or water they could glean from the forest, and only sporadic bouts of sleep. One of them would rest while the other kept watch, in case any nasty things came after them in the dark. Not that sleep was helping him feel rested, no: he kept having odd dreams about his traveling companion, dreams that seemed far too real, even in the waking hours.

If that wasn't bad enough, he felt terrible. He was a man in a near-constant state of perfect health; he rarely even got the sniffles. But his body lagged with fatigue, and his head ached, much in way a body does before it is stricken with cold or flu. He didn't mention it to Waverly, however. What use was there in complaining?

When Waverly slept, Dean couldn't tell if she dreamed. She didn't twitch or cry out in her sleep, as if trapped in a nightmare, and she never smiled or murmured as if she were experiencing a pleasant dream. She only lay still as a corpse, her heavy eyelids fanned down toward her pale cheeks.

They hadn't seen much trouble in the forest, just a few spirits in passing. Many of the ghouls they encountered were too wrapped up in themselves to even notice them, and looked to Dean like ethereal statues, staring blankly ahead.

"Not much longer, I hope." Waverly said, tentatively. "The only way out of here is through, according to the lore. And according to Alan. I wish he was here. He knows this plane like the back of his hand."

"He visits a lot?" Dean asked, and Waverly nodded.

"Way more than I do, thankfully. I know it sounds stupid in my line of work, but I really don't like dead things. The whole thought of it just creeps me out, even after all these years." She shuddered a little. "I know it's silly."

"No, no, I get it." Dean said. "You never completely get used to it."

"No matter how hard you try to pretend it's not weird." Waverly smiled. "You and me, we get each other pretty well, don't we?"

"I guess." Dean grumbled, retreating back into a gruff shell. Waverly didn't push the issue, not wanting to bother the hunter who seemed so internally tormented already.

"But yeah, we should be at the diner before you know it. And it's awesome, Dean, because when we get back into real life, not all that much time will have passed. Time moves differently here. They're probably only just now beginning to notice we're gone."

Some leaves on trees rustled above their heads, and the two were immediately on alert.

"Get behind me." Waverly told Dean, who scoffed.

"No." he said. "You get behind me."

Waverly rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't get all macho on me now. I'm as strong as fifty of you."

The rustling grew louder, and they soon found themselves encircled by about a hundred tiny creatures. The beasts were all jet black, with eyes that glinted like onyx. Their bodies were covered in oily skin, and were accessorized with long, sharply pointed tails. Their arms and legs were oddly segmented, like the joints of a crab or an insect, and their small, round heads reminded Dean of a cat. If cats had three rows of glossy, white fangs, and spindly, opposable hands that ended in gracefully curved talons. The creatures looked simply unnatural, like a quiet abomination in every way. Something about them made them disturbing to behold, even to a seasoned hunter and superhero.

"Dammit." Waverly cursed. "Hobs."

"What's a hob?" Dean asked under his breath, assuming a defensive stance against the creatures.

"Ahem." One of the little creatures cleared his throat. "A hob is a sort of fae. My people are from Avalon. Hello, Waverly."

"Hello, Evicheron." Waverly said, tersely. "Eaten any preschoolers, lately?"  
"You know that I'm terribly sorry for all that." Evicheron groused. "Your world turns us into monsters, Waverly; it's not our fault. We're quite civilized here, I assure you."

"Yeah, I don't have time for this. We have to make it out of these woods as soon as possible, so if you don't mind-"

"And just who is this fellow?" Evicheron regarded Dean with excited eyes. "It's not every Protector that brings home a boyfriend! Good for you, Waverly!"

"He's not my boyfriend." Waverly said, blushing a bit.

"Yeah, we're not-" Dean was cut off by a hob, this one a female with a brassy voice.

_"What's the issue, dear? Why are you holding back from such a man?"_

"No! Dammit, I forbid it!" Waverly exclaimed, as music began to start up as if from nowhere. "No impromptu musical numbers!"

_"Is it the clumpy way he walks? Or the grumpy way he talks?_" The female hob continued, unabashed by Waverly's protests. Backing music continued to play, it's source loud and mysterious.

"_Or the pear-shaped, square-shaped weirdness of her feet?_" another hob chimed in.

"What the hell?" Dean asked, backing away from the sleek little beasts that were curiously poking and prodding him. "Get off me!"

"Hobs sing, Dean." Waverly put her head in her hands, defeated. "Hobs sing. And their musical numbers are like these woods: the only way out is through."

"_And though we all know he means well, he sometimes winds up in Hell._" A hob beamed, showing off his sharp teeth.

_"But you'll never meet a fellow who's as sensitive and sweet!"_ The hobs all chimed in, absorbed in their song now, enthusiastically contributing to the melody.

_"So he's a bit of a fixer-upper? So he's got a few flaws?"_

_"Like his life of tangles, or his thing with the angel?"_

"Oh, come on!" Dean hollered, exasperated.

_"That's a little outside of nature's laws! So he's a bit of a fixer-upper, but we know what to do! The way to fix up this fixer-upper is to fix him up with you!"_

"Okay, that's enough!" Waverly put her hands on her hips. "It's been a long couple of days, you greasy, sing-songy freaks! And we have a real, actual problem here!"

"I'll say." Evischeron hopped onto Waverly's shoulder's like the world's most disgusting parrot. "_So tell us, dear: Is it the way he pretends never to be scared? Or that he's socially impaired?"_

"_Or that he only likes to wear layered flannel shirts?_" A much-too chipper baby hob contributed.

"_Are you holding back your fondness due to his unmanly blondness?"_

"_Or the way he covers up that he's the honest goods? So he's a bit of a fixer-upper? He's got a couple of bugs!"_

"I do not have bugs!" Dean said.

"I am so sorry for their behavior." Waverly sighed.

_"His emotional isolation is confirmation of his desperation for healing hugs! He's just a bit of a fixer-upper, but this we're certain of: you can fix this fixer-upper up with a little bit o'love!"_

"Enough! We are trying to save the world, okay?!" Dean protested. "Not get trapped in your weird fix em up song! And we're just friends, anyway. We're heroes, and we don't get to have normal relationships! Son of a bitch!"

The hobs, paused, considered his statement. Then they resumed their song, undaunted.

_"So they're both sort of fixer-uppers. That's a minor thing."_ Evischeron shrugged.

_"Their job engagement is a flex arrangement."_

_"And by the way, they could still save things."_

_"They're just two lonely fixer-uppers, their brains a bit betwixt. Get the savin' the day out of the way, and the whole thing will be fixed!"_

"Kill me." Dean groaned.  
"But then who would put me out my misery?" Waverly chuckled a little.

_"We're not saying you can change him,_" the female addressed Waverly, "_Cause people don't really change. We're only saying that love's a force that's powerful and strange. People make bad choices when they're mad or scared or stressed."_ The female hob gestured to Dean's arm where the Mark of Cain lay.

_"But throw a little love their way, and you'll bring out their best! True love brings out the best! Everyone's a bit of a fixer-upper: that's what it's all about!"_

A cascade of pink and white flower petals and glitter rained down on the entire group.

_"Father!"_

_"Sister!"_

_"Brother!"_

_"We need each other, to build us up and round us out. Everyone's a bit of a fixer upper, but when push comes to shove-"_  
_"The only fixer-upper fixer that can fix is a fixer-upper is true loooooove!"_

The hobs held the last note of their song, while Evischeron held the reluctant hands of the hunter and the superhero.

_"Do you Waverly, take Dean Winchester as your hob-fully wedded-"_

Waverly jerked her hand away. "Seriously, Evischeron?!"

"What? You're getting married." He stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Dean rolled his eyes and drop kicked the hob across the forest floor.

The music ended, and the rest of the hobs followed their leader back into the trees as he shrieked and scurried away.

"Oh dear, sweet Lord." Waverly groaned, brushing glitter and petals out of her hair. "At least it was a short musical number this time. Once, I got trapped in act two of Les Miserables. I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"It's fine." Dean scanned the tree line for more of the little fae. "Do you think they'll come back? Jesus, I look like I was attacked by a Hobby Lobby."

"God, I hope not." Waverly said. "Hopefully they got the message. Nice drop kick, by the way." She smiled.

"Just did what felt right." He shrugged, and Waverly laughed. It was a lilting, lovely sound that helped dissipate some of the gloom in the Endless Wood. Dean cleared his throat. "How did those things, those hobs, know my name? They knew a lot about me."

"It's a creepy talent hobs have. They know things. Come on, we can't be far from the center of Otherton. We've walked forever." Waverly pushed forward. "We need to get…" her voice trailed off as the path verged away from the thickest part of the trees and led up a clearing with a hill. At the top of the hill sat a small wooden cabin, with smoke rising out of it's chimney.

"That wasn't there before, right?" she asked Dean who shook his head.

"Do we risk it? It could have either helpful spirits, or vengeful ones who will want to eat us."

"Let's keep going." Dean said, coughing. "No need to stop here."

"Yeah, okay." Waverly agreed, even as her stomach growled. She wouldn't have minded meeting a lovely dead couple or something who would give her a hot meal. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dean coughed again. "Just need to catch my…breath."

Suddenly, a folded piece of paper appeared in front of her face, dangling as if from some invisible string.

"Oh, fun." Waverly said sarcastically and grabbed the paper.

"What is that?" Dean asked.

"It's Caddo Ayi's preferred method of communicating with me in this realm. It's annoying, but I admit it's preferable to 'weird trance'."

She plucked the letter from thin air and began to read, "Darling Waverly, as you can see, I have provided this cabin for yours and the hunter's use until further notice. You will find everything you need inside of it. I have sealed up the Endless Wood until further notice; no one gets in or out until I am satisfied with your behavior. Sincerely, Caddo Ayi."

"Are you fucking me?!" Waverly tore the letter in two, and shook her fist at the sky, in no particular direction. "Listen to me, you disembodied son-of-a-bitch! I have to get back to my town! I have a demon to defeat, in case you've forgotten! You're the one who did this to me! You made me this way! Now let me go so I can do my job!"

"Maybe you should calm down?" Dean suggested. Waverly was scary when she was angry.

"No!" She snapped at him. "Why'd you even do this to me, huh? Why did you turn me, and have me jump through all your stupid hoops for years if you're gonna take me out right when it's most important?!"

Another letter appeared in front of her, but she ripped it in half instead of reading it.

"No more games! I'm done with your shit! If you wanna talk, you show yourself!"

She paused for a moment, but nothing happened.

"We'll find a way out of here." Dean said. "He doesn't know who he's messing with."

"Oh, you'd be surprised." A voice came from behind a tree. A short, brunette man stepped out from behind the trunk, smirking. "What's with the face, Dean? Aren't you happy to see me?"

Dean was, for once, more or less stunned.

"_Gabriel?!"_ he managed.

"Nuh-uh. Nope. Not until I've talked with the little woman." He snapped his fingers and Dean was rendered voiceless.

"So you're the one. You're Caddo Ayi." Waverly said. "You finally decide to show your face. I thought you'd be less…white."

"Racist." The man scoffed at her, feigning offense. "Native American gods can be white."

Dean shook his head "no" at Waverly.

"Dean, easy with the sign language there. Or I'll make it where you can't move, either."

"Don't talk to him like that. How do you even know him?" Waverly demanded. "And why can't we leave the Endless Wood? Why now, after all this time, do you…"

"You're being rude, little miss. Not letting me get a word in edgewise. That's no way to treat the guy who made you awesome."

"Awesome?" Waverly sneered. "You ruined my life. And now you won't even let me do the job you intended me to do."

"_I _ruined your life?" the man chuckled, then snapped his fingers. "Okay, then. There. I just fixed it. You're powerless."

"What?!" Waverly shrieked, raising her hand to fire an electrical volt at him, but nothing happened. "You son of a bitch! Turn me back this minute! Fix me!"

"No. I'd hate to burden you with the powers. And while I'm at it, I may as well sweep this entire mess clean."

He went over to Dean and grabbed his arm. Dean tried to pull away, but Gabriel was far too strong.

Gabriel shook his head in disappoint. "Dean, Dean, Dean. Lucifer's mark? I'd expect something like this from Sam, but from you?" He tapped his finger to the red welt and it vanished.

"Oh, I bet if you had your voice now, you'd be asking all sorts of questions. Like, where'd my spiffy mark go? I can only take it from you temporarily. You're my brother's; only he can wipe that slate clean. Like I did for Wonder Woman over here."

"I thought the mark of Cain came from Lucifer. If he's your brother, then that would make you…" Waverly gasped. "You're an archangel."

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner. Your quick powers of deductive reasoning always blow me away. Name's Gabriel. Of course, we've already met. I deemed you worthy, and gave you my mark. But you remember that. You just obviously don't appreciate it."

"I do. I need it. Only I can defeat Mephistopheles. You know that. Give me my powers back."

"No." Gabriel said. "I'm gonna hold onto your toys until you two can learn to play nice." He gestured toward the cabin. "Also, you're both in time out."

"We didn't do anything wrong." Waverly said. "We're trying to save the world here."

"Yes, but you're both going about it in the wrong way." Gabriel said. "And until you've both learned your lessons, it's cabin time. No superpowers, no Mark of Cain, no electricity, no internet, no nothing. Until you both have time to reflect and think about what you've done. Oh, and no canoodling of any sort. You may be grounded, but that doesn't mean you have to act like horny teenagers. Play by my rules, and I'll give your toys back and send you home. If not, I'll keep you in there…oh, I'd say indefinitely."

"You're deranged." Waverly said. "What happens to the world while we're in here? Huh?"

"Oh, get over yourself Waverly." Gabriel said. "The world got along without you for a million years, and it'll get along after you're dead for a million more. Remember: learn your lessons, and you can come back out to play."

He snapped his fingers and restored Dean's voice. He snapped them again, and Dean and Waverly found themselves inside the cabin, with no doorways or windows visible.

_What in the world could possibly happen next? Leave a review with what you think ought to happen._

_Also, the song I used for the hob musical number is called "Fixer Upper" from Disney's Frozen. Great song, great film. (Though I doctored the lyrics a bit.)_

_Next chapter will focus on Sam, Becky, and Castiel, so don't worry: It won't be as much as an acid trip as this one was._

_Quick question: I've thought about doing a spin-off fic with these characters called the Becky Project, which would detail Becky's life where the show leads off, and chronicle her growth into a better person. What do you guys think? Would you be interested?_


	10. Keep Me Human

_A new chapter, at last! Hopefully I'll be quicker on a draw with updates since I'm on a short break from my studies. Thanks for reading!_

2011

Becky and Sam lay under the covers, snuggled up despite the lack of a central air conditioner. Love (and love potions, incidentally) make people do nonsensical things like that.

"Tell me a story. What was the worst thing that ever happened to you?" Becky asked, lazily. "Honestly?"

Sam stared at the house's ceiling, his eyes studying the water spots that inched their mildew across the cheap plaster stucco.

"Honestly? It was at Stanford." He admitted, shifting his weight in the bed. Becky was warm, too warm, but she moved with Sam, her arms wrapped tight around him, not letting him move even an inch. A film of sweat held their skin together, sticky and uncomfortable.

"I had this professor my junior year. Dr. Swift. Developmental psychology. I had to take this class to fill hours, to keep my scholarship. I didn't need it to graduate. And she hated me. I don't know why. She just did. But I busted my ass in there and did really well."

"So what's the problem?" Ruby asked, genuinely surprised by his answer. He hadn't mentioned anything predictable, like his mother dying or being chosen by Azazel. He didn't even mention the death of his brother, or his messed up childhood. This thing with the professor had never been in Chuck's books. Becky wondered why.

"She gave me a C for my final grade."

"So?" Becky said. "No, don't make that face. I want to understand. Why is a C so bad? Did you lose your scholarship?"

"No."

"Then what's the big deal?"

"It's stupid."

"Bet it's not."

"It lowered my GPA, okay?" Sam crossed his arms, un-sticking himself from Becky.

"Why does that matter so much?" Becky smiled at him. "You don't need a 4.0 to tell you how smart you are."

"Because." Sam said. "I know it's pathetic and stupid but nothing in this life ever made me happier than maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Until we fell in love, of course." He added, for good measure.

"Why?"

"Because. Because it…no matter what was happening, no matter how screwed up everything was, I always had that little piece of paper that said I was perfect at something. It was proof that I was valuable."

"So people who make C's aren't valuable?" She ruffled his hair, which annoyed him, but he was happy to tolerate it.

"No, it's not that. I just loved being _that guy_. The one with a 4.0. Because he was smart and perfect and going somewhere."

"You are going somewhere." Becky argued. "Just a different direction than you thought."

"I'm glad." Sam said, with a smile. "It led me to you."

Scene Break

Becky and Castiel sat in her home, with two untouched glasses of iced tea in front of them. Her sunroom was small but cozy, decorated with vintage cushions and lace doilies.

"Your child, you know its gender?" Castiel asked.

"No." Becky replied. "Clive and I want to be surprised."

"Hmm." Castiel considered, and took a sip of the tea, making a face at its syrupy sweetness.

"Do you know what it is?" Becky asked, her interest piqued.

"Yes. But I shall keep it a surprise."

Becky frowned, the temptation nagging at her.

"Now I can't help wondering if I'm having a Declan Scout or a Penelope Willow."

"Those are names you and your husband have chosen?" Castiel asked, seemingly deep in thought.

"Yes…why? Don't you like them?"

"They are very plain. But humans have plain names. Dean. Sam. Becky. I am Castiel, and most humans call me Cas, because it is plain. I was called Steve, for a while. Human names are perplexing."

"Well, if you had a baby, what would you call it?"

"Raizel." Castiel answered.

"It's a bit close to Rachel, I think." Becky said. "No offense."

"None taken."

"If it's a girl," Becky began, the loud ticking of the clock grating on her nerves. "I'll call her Penn, for short, I think. Hey, um, Castiel?" She took special care to pronounce his full name.

"Yes?"

"You're an angel. Can't you just pop into Otherton and find Dean and Waverly?" she traced the condensation on her glass with her fingernail.

"It is not so easy as it would seem, even for an angel. Reapers, or humans who will one day become reapers, slide through the cracks between worlds with no trouble."

"Alan's good at what he does." Becky sighed. "But…I worry, still. I don't know who gets into more trouble: Waverly or Dean. And now they're both together, so who knows what might happen?"

"This…Waverly. The Protector. You care for her?"

"Like my sister." Becky nodded. "We're all very close. And don't you worry about Dean, Castiel. If Waverly is with him, he won't get hurt. Probably."

"I will always worry for Dean." Castiel replied.

Becky sighed.

Scene Break

Alan and Sam had procured an empty booth in the spectral diner, and both had neglected to order anything.

"How long has it been?" Sam asked, glancing at his cell phone screen, which was frustratingly blank.

"Twenty minutes for you and me." Alan explained. "For Dean and Waverly, it may have been five minutes. I may have been days, for all I know. But they should be here with us soon. The only way out is through, and this isn't Wave's first rodeo. And your brother…wow." Alan shook his head in disbelief. "The vibes I pick up off him. Has he really been to Purgatory?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. After a…after he saved everyone."

Alan understood what Sam meant, even without lengthy communication. "Yeah, I get that. Big brother saves a lot of people, doesn't he? And you right along with him."

"He's never...he's different." Sam admitted. "Ever since he got that mark. It's like he's…" Sam trailed off, confused. "Why am I telling you this?"  
"You can't lie here. And this diner we're in. Sometimes people feel a compulsion to spill their guts. Talk out their unfinished business and whatnot. Especially to guys like me. Future reapers." Alan sighed.

"How does that work?" Sam asked. "How does a human become a reaper?"

"We're born that way, the same way someone else is born with red hair or a high IQ. There's just something in us that makes us special. Physics and planewalkers in life become reapers in death. Because nobody else is suited for the job. It's just not part of their make-up."

"But what about free will?" Sam asked.

Alan threw his head back and laughed. "Free will? Like I had a choice to be this, any more than you chose what you are. Tragic past? Mother dying, demon boy king, breaker of the final seal of the apocalypse? Thanks for stopping that, by the way."

"Alright, you're a good psychic. But it's creepy and annoying, you knowing everything."

"I get that a lot. But what I don't get is that teeny sparkle of angelic inside you. Right next to a bit of demonic energy. You…damn it, you've been possessed by everybody and their mother, haven't you?"

"Okay, I'm done with this conversation." Sam said, getting irritated with his new acquaintance.

"Fair enough." Alan shrugged. "You hungry? Delphine, the cook here, makes an amazing chicken fried steak. Just amazing. Hey, Delphine!" Alan waved his hand. "Two chicken fried steak plates, please!"

"So…" Sam stared at his hands, feeling restless. He hadn't anticipated how dull this rescue mission was turning out to be. "I didn't get a chance to really talk with Waverly about her mark. I want her to help my brother, if she can. She seems to be in control of it pretty well."

Alan rolled his eyes. "It would seem so, yes. But in a lot of ways, she's still her mark's bitch. She's changed a lot, since she got it. Part of that could just be that she grew up. Part of it could be the fact that superpowers aren't fantastic for somebody's ego.

They feel invincible, way more so than a human ought to feel. Waverly, she…the power she has. It's incredible, but it's also terrifying how lost she can get in it. There's a fine line between a hero and a villain, if you let that sort of power really get to you."

"You keep her grounded, don't you?" Sam asked. "You keep her human."

"She does the same for me." Alan admitted. "And Becky, she helps with things I can't. Girl things. Feelings and stuff. Margot, Heinrich, Elspeth. We're not perfect, but we're a family. And we all keep each other human, as best we can."

Sam nodded. "So you think the best thing for Dean is to…"

"The best thing for your brother would be to lose the mark, if he can." Alan answered, honestly. "But if he can't, then the only way to keep him grounded, in my experience, is through love. That's the only difference between the Waverly you've seen and the avenging monster she could turn into."

"Oh my Dad. You've solved it." A voice interrupted them. Gabriel, with a giant smile on his face, had appeared next to their table. All other motion and activity in the small diner ceased. Only the three men remained unfrozen.

"An angel?" Alan asked, confused. "You feel like an angel. What are you doing here?"

"I run this place, buddy." Gabriel said. "Caddo Ayi, pleased to meet you."

"You're supposed to be dead!" Sam exclaimed, confused.

"So sorry to disappoint you." Gabriel said, taking a seat on Sam's side of the booth. "I have your brother. And Waverly. Don't fret; they're safe. For now."

"What did you do to them?" Alan demanded. "And what are you?"

"I'm Gabriel, the archangel." He said, rolling his eyes. "Keep up. I'm here to tell the two of you what to expect when you next see your little buddies. They'll be different, but new and improved."

"Improved how?" Sam demanded. "Let Dean go."

Gabriel grinned and cracked his knuckles. "That's the key, right? Love? Well, I was around this rock for the first bearer of the Mark of Cain to mess shit up. And frankly, the world can't afford another episode like that. So I did your brother a favor."

"Oh, I'm sure." Sam snapped. "Like the time you murdered him?"

"Which time?" Gabriel snarked, gleefully. Sam scowled at him.

"Oh, come on. That was a little bit funny. Anyhoo, your darling duo is almost out of the woods. Thought I'd let you know."

Alan reached over the table and grabbed Gabriel by his shirt collar. "You listen to me, you incorporeal chucklefuck, if you've hurt her…"

"Why on earth would I hurt my Protector? My champion. I did her a favor. Could you watch the upholstery? Take your grubbies off me."

"What kind of favor?" Alan asked dubiously, and relinquished his grip from the amused archangel.

"I found her her soulmate." Gabriel said. "Pretty fun, huh? The problem with types like Waverly, though, is that hero work can make you so jaded. They don't want to let their gaurds down. Sometimes they need a little push in the right direction."

"Soulmates aren't real." Alan argued.

"They are. And Dean Winchester is Waverly's. What stopped Cain from ending the world in a bloody rampage? The love of a good woman kept him in line. And who can keep the guy with Lucifer's mark in line better than the girl with Gabriel's?"

"What did you do?" Sam asked, putting his head in his hands. "What did you do to my brother?"

"I didn't do anything to him." Gabriel asserted. "I may have put some memories from the other timeline into their heads, to help them fall in love, but they're not under a spell."

"Other timeline?" Alan asked, in disbelief.

"In _love_?" Sam asked, in a tone very much like Alan's.

"You got it." Gabriel replied. "And don't you two morons go messing it up. It took me five years to get those idiots together."

"They've been gone a few hours." Sam argued.

"Or have they?" Gabriel quirked an eyebrow, mysteriously. "Look, Sam. You finding that newspaper article that brought you here wasn't a mistake. I needed the brothers Winchester to come to Vesper and meet Waverly. So they could fall in love, like in the other timeline."

"What other timeline?" Sam asked, exasperated.

"It's not important." Gabriel shrugged. "What's important is, everybody gets what they want. Even you, Sam. You're no longer the apple of big brother's eye. He's got something to live for besides you. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Sam didn't reply, choosing instead to awkwardly examine his own cuticles.

"You didn't mess with their heads? They're making their own choices?" Alan clarified, frowning.

Gabriel nodded. "And now you've got a great team for taking down Abbadouche and Magical Mister Mephistopheles. They'll keep each other human. _You're welcome._"

With a wink, Gabriel vanished, and activity in the small diner resumed as time began again.

Alan and Sam were silent for a moment, speechless.

"What just happened?" Alan managed.

"I have no idea." Sam slowly replied, getting a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. His gaze was caught by the door of the diner swinging open. "But we're about to find out. Look who just got here."

_Okay, that was a plot twist even I didn't see coming. Please review for me to let me know that people are still interested in my wonky little yarn. I'll continue with a sensible explanation to that bombshell I just dropped. Until then, thanks for your continued support!_


End file.
